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and Fairies 

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Frances Jenkins Olcott 

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trated in color by Milo Winter. 

in color by Willy Pogany. 

in color by Frederick Richardson. 

trated in color by Willy Pogany. 




With A tnena Pendleton 





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Till N!» YORK 


K 1927 L 
— J 


Published October iqiS 


'Good luck befriend thee, son; Jot, at thy birth, 
The FAIRY LADIES danced upon the hearth; 
The drowsy nurse hath sworn she did them spy 
Come tripping to the room, where thou didst lie, 
And sweetly singing round about thy bed 
Strew all their blessings on thy sleeping head!" 




Let a child open the covers of this book, and 
straightway he is in that land of all delights — 
Fairy Realm. Here Fairy Godmothers reward 
good children, and punish bad ones; here red- 
capped Little Men yield up their treasures of gold 
and magic gifts, while Pixies drop silver pennies 
in water-pails, and merry Spriggans and Fays 
hold nightly revels in the moonlight. Here, too, 
a child may dance in Fairy Rings, or hie away 
to Elfinland for a year and a day to play with 
wonder-children, pick Fairy flowers, listen to 
Fairy birds, and be fed on magic goodies. 

Old favourites like "Cinderella," "Toads and 
Diamonds," and "Robin Goodfellow," may 
charm the little reader, or other delightful tales, 
new to most children, such as "Butterfly's Dia- 
mond" and "Timothy Tuttle and the Little 
Imps," will fascinate as much as do the older 
tales. Stories are here from all lands where Fair- 
ies thrive — Elfin-lore, legends, myths, and won- 
der-tales from China, Japan, the South Seas, 
England, Ireland, Wales, Cornwall, and Red 
Indian land, and from many other Elfin-haunted 


And every story is about "Fairies black, grey, 
green, and white," and every one has been se- 
lected for delightful humour, fancy, or ethical 
teaching. Nearly all have been retold to meet 
the needs of story-tellers and to please the chil- 
dren. As far as possible the language of the 
originals has been retained and elements that will 
terrify little children or teach them that wrong 
is right, have been eliminated. The French tales 
— all but one — have been freshly translated. 

A subject index is appended to aid the story- 
teller in choosing stories dealing with specific 
subjects, such as fruits, flowers, seasons, holidays, 
trees, also with moral qualities like obedience, 
thrift, honesty, and truth-telling. - 

To impart true Fairy spirit as well as literary 
flavour, many famous Fairy poems by Shake- 
speare, Ben Jonson, Michael Drayton, and other 
poets are included; so that the volume forms a 
collection of the best Fairy literature, not merely 
planned to give the children joy, but to be of 
real educational value. 

^But of what possible educational value are 
Fairy tales?" asks the practical parent or 

They are essential in the right development of 
a child's mind. They embody the poetic fancy of 
the race. They stimulate a child's imagination, 
feed his fancy, and satisfy poetically his groping 


after things unseen. His craving for such tales 
is due to a normal growth of mind. If he be de- 
prived of Fairy tales in childhood, he is likely, as 
an adult, to lack the creative imagination which 
makes big-visioned men and women, and leads 
to success in literature, art, invention, or in the 
practical things of business life. There are, of 
course, children who do not like Fairy tales, but 
they are few and far between, and other forms of 
literature may be found ]which will, in part, help 
to develop their peculiar type of mentality. But 
Fairy tales are the heritage of the normal child, 
and if he be judiciously fed on them, in later life 
he will have a more plastic imagination and be 
able to enjoy more fully the beauties of great 
poetry and other fine literature. 

Robert Burns said in a letter to Dr. Moore 
that in his infant and boyisji days he owed much 
to an old woman who lived in his family; for 
her tales of Brownies, and Fairies, and other won- 
ders "cultivated the latent seeds of poetry" in 
the poet's mind. And even the grave Luther 
said, "I would not for any quantity of gold part 
with the wonderful tales which I have retained 
from my earliest childhood, or have met with in 
my progress through life." 

Charles Lamb, and Coleridge too, believed 
heartily in Fairy tales. "Ought children to be 
permitted to read romances, and stories of 


Giants, Magicians, and Genii?" asked Coleridge. 
"I know all that has been said against it; but I 
have formed my faith in the affirmative. I know 
no other way of giving the mind a love of the 
Great and the Whole. ... I read every book 
that came in my way without distinction, and 
my father was fond of me and used to take me 
on his knee, and hold long conversations with 
me. I remember when eight years old walking 
with him one winter evening, . . . and he then 
told me the names 1 of the stars, and how Jupiter 
was a thousand times larger than our world, and 
that the other twinkling stars were suns that had 
worlds rolling round them; and when I came 
home he showed me how they rolled round. I 
heard him with a profound delight and admira- 
tion, but without the least mixture of wonder or 
incredulity. For from my early reading of Fairy 
tales and about Genii, and the like, my mind 
had been habituated to the Vast; and I never re- 
garded my senses in any way as the criteria of my 

Such, then, is the educational mission of the 
Fairy tale, not only to give pure joy, but to en- 
large the mind. And as childhood is the only 
time when this miracle takes place in its com- 
pleteness, every child who so desires should be 
allowed to wander at will in the land of imagina- 
tive delights, where the King of Fairy Poets, 


Shakespeare, loved to wander as a child and as a 
man. In "The Plea of the Midsummer Fairies" 
that benign shape answers grisly Time who would 
cut down "all the assembled Fays": — 

" These be the pretty Genii of the flow' rs, 
Daintily fed with honey and pure dew — 
Midsummer's phantoms in her dreaming hours, 
King Oberon, and all his merry crew 9 
The darling puppets of romance's view; 
Fairies, and Sprites, and Goblin Elves we call them, 
Famous for patronage of lovers true; — 
No harm they act, neither shall harm befall them, 
So do not thus with crabbed frowns appall them, 

"Likewise to them are Poets much beholden 
For secret favours in the midnight glooms; 
Brave Spenser quaff' d out of their goblets golden, 
And saw their tables spread of prompt mushrooms, 
And heard their horns of honeysuckle blooms 
Sounding upon the air, most soothing soft, 
Like humming bees busy about the brooms, — 
And glanced this fair Queen's witchery full oft. 
And in her magic wain soared far aloft. 

" 9 T was they first school' d my young imagination 
To take its flights like any new-fledged bird, 
And show'd tJie span of wingid meditation 
Stretched wider than things grossly seen or heard. 
With sweet swift Ariel how I soar'd and stirred 
The fragrant blooms of spiritual bow'rsl 
9 T was they endear' d what I have still preferr'd, 
Nature's blest attributes and balmy pow'rs, 
Her hills and vales and brooks, sweet birds and 


Special acknowledgment is here made to the 
Saturday Magazine of the New York Evening Post 
for use of many stories included in this volume, 
which I have written for its columns. 

Grateful acknowledgment is due also to the fol- 
lowing publishers for material from their books : — 

To Messrs. Houghton Mifflin Company, for 
"The Sick-Bed Elves," from Strange Stories from 
the Lodge of Leisures, by George Soulie ; " The 
Brown Dwarf of Riigen," by John Greenleaf 
Whittier; "The Immortal Fountain," and "A 
Little Knight and Little Maid," by Lucy Larcom. 

To Messrs. E. P. Dutton & Co., for "Little 
Niebla," from The Purple Land, by W. H. Hudson. 

Thanks are due to Mrs. Anna Todd Paddock 
for " Timothy Tuttle and the Little Imps," and to 
Miss Julia Pish for the French stories specially 
translated for this volume. 

F. J. 0. 



" 'T is the Hour of Fairy Ban and Spell," 
Joseph Rodman Drake 2 

Come! Come! to the Fairies' Story Hour! . 3 



"In the Glowing Light of a Summer Sky," 
William Jones 8 

Adventures of Robin Goodfellow, Old Eng- 
lish 9 

The Potato Supper, Irish 15 

The Milk- White Calf and the Fairy Ring, 
Irish 20 

The Wood-Lady, Boliemian 26 

The Dance of the Fairies, From The Maydes 
Metamorphosis (1600) 32 


" 'Tis the Midnight Hour" . 

Monday! Tuesday! Irish .... 
The Greedy Old Man, Cornish . 
Legend of Bottle Hill, Irish . 
The Brown Dwarf, John Greenleaf Whittier 





"And will you come away, my Lad?" . . 62 
The Boy who found the Pots of Gold, 

Irish 63 

The Ragweed, Irish 00 

The Bad Boy and the Leprechaun, Irish . 70 

Tom and the Knockers, Cornish ... 73 

The Knockers' Diamonds, Cornish ... 77 

Skillywidden, Cornish 79 

The Leprechaun, or Fairy Shoemaker, 

William Allingham 84 


"Saint Francis and Saint i Benedict," Wil- 
liam Cartwright (1635?) 

Little Redcap, Irish 

The Curmudgeon's Skin, Irish 

Judy and the Fairy Cat, Irish 

The Boggart, English 

Ownself, English 

The Sick-Bed Elves, Chinese 

How Peeping Kate was Piskey-Led, 

One-Eyed Prying Joan's Tale, Cornish 

The Fairy Folk, William Allingham 

. 90 
. 91 
. 97 
. 103 
. 105 
. 107 
. 109 
Cornish 111 
. 121 
. 128 


"Their Dwellings be," From the Hierarchie 
of the Blessed Angells (1635) . . . .132 

The Fairy's Servants, Basque .... 133 


The Pixies, English 138 

The Brownie of Blednoch, Scottish . .142 
Elsa and the Ten Elves, Swedish . . . 145 
,'Piskey Fine! and Piskey Gay! Cornish . . 149 
The Fairy Wedding, Swedish . . . .151 

The Tomts, Swedish 155 

Song of the Elfin Miller, Allan Cunning- 
ham 157 

"Over Hill, over Dale," Shakespeare . . 160 
Kintaro the Golden Boy, Japanese . .161 
The Flower Fairies, Chinese . . . .166 

The Fairy Island, Cornish 169 

The Four-Leaved Clover, Cornish . . . 171 

The Gillie Dhu, Scottish 174 

How Kahukura learned to make Nets, New 

Zealand 176 

Echo, the Cave Fairy, From the Island of 

Mangaia 179 

The Isles of the Sea Fairies, Mary Howitt 182 


"But we that live in Fairyland," Old Bal- 
lad 183 

The Magic Ferns, Cornish 189 

The Smith and the Fairies, Scottish . . 194 

The Coal-Black Steed, English . . . 198 

The Girl who was stolen by the Fairies, 
Irish 201 


The Girl who danced wiin the Fairies, Irish 203 
Elidore and the Golden Ball, Welsh . . 20G 
At the Court of Fairyland, Selections from 
Ben Jonson, Michael Drayton, Joseph Rod- 
man Drake, Shakespeare, and Old Ballads . 209 




"Rap! Rap! Rap!" 220 

^Cinderella, Charles Perrault .... 221 

- Sleeping Beauty in the Wood, Charles Perrault 231 

Prince Cheri, Madame Le Prince de Beaumont 239 

v'Toads and Diamonds, Charles Perrault . . 254 

Blanche and Rose, Madame Le Prince de 
Beaumont 258 

The Enchanted Watch, Jean MacS . . 264 

Queen Mab, Thomas Hood 27G 


"A Little Knight and Little Maid," Lucy 

Larcom 280 

Fairy Do-Nothing and Giant Snap-'Em-Up, 

Catherine Sinclair 281 

Timothy Tuttle and the Little Imps, 

Dr. John Todd 290 

Butterfly's Diamond, Lydia Maria Child . 304 
Little Niebla, W. II. Hudson . . . .312 


Little Tiny, Hans Christian Andersen . . 319 
The Immortal Fountain, Lydia Maria Child 337 
The Story of Childe Charity, Frances Browne 348 

The Shining Child and the Wicked Mouche, 

Adapted 361 

Mabel on Midsummer Day, Mary Howitt . 400 


"Oh! where do Fairies hide their Heads?" 
Thomas Haynes Bayly 412 

The Fairies' Passage, James Clarence Mangan 413 

Old Winter's Fairyland, Anonymous . .418 

Subject Index for Story-tellers . . . 423 



"This is Mab, the Mistress Fairy" Frontispiece 

"Dermod gazed at them in wonder" . . 18 

"She saw a whole troop op Spriggans holding 
an Elfin Fair" 118 

"Childe Charity came out and asked the old 
woman to take her share of the supper" . 350 


9 T is the hour of Fairy ban and spell; 
The wood-tick has kept the minutes well; 
He has counted them all with click and stroke, 
Deep in the heart of the mountain oak, 
And he has awakened the sentry Elve 

Who sleeps with him in the haunted tree, 
To bid him ring the hour of twelve, 

And call the Fays to their revelry; 
Twelve small strokes on his tinkling bell — 
(' T was made of the white snaiVs pearly shell: — ) 
' Midnight comes, and all is well! 
Hither, hither, wing your way I 
9 T is the dawn of the Fairy day." 

Joseph Rodman Drake 



Fairies! Fairies everywhere! Hear them come! 
See them come in the pale moonlight to this 
lovely meadow! They rush through the air; they 
throng from the wood; they spring up from the 
ground; they peep from the flowers and leaves. 
They are all hastening to the Fairies' Story Hour. 
The Midsummer moon is shining, shining; while 
the Midsummer breeze is swaying, swaying the 
harebells, lilies, and grasses. 

Laughter! whisper! Laughter! whisper! See, 
through the air comes gliding a whole host of 
radiant little Fairies. They poise lightly on their 
silvery wings, and float down to the harebells 
and lilies. They flicker over the meadow like 
gay butterflies. Laughter! whisper! 

Hum! whirr! Hum! whirr! What is that noise 
in the tree-tops? From among the dark leaves 
fly hundreds and hundreds of broad-backed bee- 
tles, bumping and thumping each other. They are 
followed by a silent cloud of bats, that wheel and 
whirl, and flap their leathery wings. And to the 
back of every beetle and every bat clings a 


tiny roguish Elf peeping down at the meadow 

Rap! tack! tack! Rap! tack! tack! From be- 
hind each tree-trunk steps a little Leprechaun as 
big as your thumb. They are the Fairy Shoe- 
makers. Their long beards and red caps wag in 
the moonlight; and the little men smile and 
chuckle to themselves, for well they know where 
the pots of Fairy Gold are hidden. Near them, 
peering from behind stones and bushes, are the 
Curmudgeons, rolling their mischievous eyes. 

Skip! skip! Knock! knock! What have we 
here? From out of the earth pours a swarm of 
little Spriggans and Pixies gaily dressed, and 
Knockers with their tiny hammers in their tiny 
hands. They have left the meadows and moors; 
they have left the mines of tin and copper, and 
the diamond caves, to come to the Fairies' Story 
Hour. How they hustle, how they bustle, out of 
the earth! 

Gallop-a-trot! Gallop-^-trot! What comes from 
the wood? A long line of prancing goats and 
house-cats ! 4 n d on the back of each is a House- 
Elf, to be sure! The Brownies, the Boggarts, the 
Tomts, the Piskeys, are all there. They have 
left their snug corners in human homes; they 
have left cellars, barns, and threshing-floors; they 
have left bowls of clubbered cream on warm 
hearthstones, to come to the Fairies' Story Hour. 


And who is this that lights their way with a 
Will-o'-the-Wisp lantern? 'Tis Robin Good- 
fellow, freakish Elf! Ho! Ho! Ho! 

Sing! cling! Sing! cling! What are these that 
come sailing through the air? Mother-of-pearl 
boats with coral masts and sails of sea-lace ! Each 
little boat is crowded with Sea-Queens and Water- 
Fairies. Their green hair is long and flowing, and 
their robes are of rainbow spray. And near them, 
astride frisky sea-horses, are the Kelpies, blow- 
ing loudly on their conch-shell trumpets. And 
each Kelpie is armed with a shield of pearl and a 
sword-fish weapon. They have all left the foam- 
ing green waves and the pink coral palaces to 
come to the Fairies' Story Hour. 

Now! Listen! Listen! The harebells and lilies 
are ringing sweet music, while from meadow 
flowers and acorn-cups and forest nuts tumble 
lazy, sleepy Elves rubbing their eyes, and hasten- 
ing to join the bthers at the Fairies' Story Hour. 

The harebells and lilies ring louder and louder. 
And from out the cool wood step King Oberon 
and Queen Mab, with all their Fairy train that 
glitters in the moonshine like a long string of 

The royal train advances into the middle of 
the meadow. The King and Queen seat them- 
selves on a throne of moss. At their left is ca- 
pering Puck mowing and mouthing; at their right, 


Ariel the sweetest singer. All present bow them- 
selves before the throne. 

See! Queen Mab raises her wand, and each 
little Elf and Fairy scurries and hurries to make 
himself comfortable. Some sway on the blades 
of grass; others climb the flower stalks and curl 
up inside the fragrant blossoms; while still others 
swing and rock in the trees, or nestle among the 
ferns and under toadstool umbrellas. 

Every wee Elf, and every tiny Fairy, and every 
little Imp, from all the world over, is here. In- 
deed, all the members of the entire Fairy Family 
are present except the human-sized ones. They 
are too busy to come. The Elfin Princes are 
searching cottages and palaces for mortal brides 
to carry off to Fairyland. The Elfin nurses are 
leaving Changelings in babies' cradles; while the 
Fairy Godmothers are far away bestowing won- 
derful gifts on good children, and punishing bad 

Look! Look! Queen Mab waves her wand! 
The Fairies' Story Hour is beginning. All is 

Listen now to the Fairy tales. 



Around ! Around ! in Fairy Rings 

In the glowing light of a Summer sky, 

When the fields are clad in green, 
Oft in their midst, with a sunnier dye, 

May the Fairies' Ring be seen! 
*T is a circle formed by the tiny feet 

Of the Elves, as they dance around: 
When the moon rides high it is there they meet, 

And merrily tread the ground! 

William Jones 


From Merry England 


Once upon a time, when men did eat more and 
drink less, when men did know no knavery, there 
were wont to walk many harmless sprites called 
Fairies, dancing in brave order in Fairy Rings 
on green hills, to sweet music. These sprites 
would make themselves invisible, and many mad 
pranks would they play, pinching careless house- 
maids black and blue, and turning ill-kept houses 
topsy-turvy. But lovingly they would use neat 
housemaids, giving them silver and other pretty 
toys which they left in the maids' shoes and 
pockets, or in bright kitchen pans. 

Now, in those Fairy days there was born on 
earth a tiny Elfin boy whom folk called Robin 
Goodfellow. And wonderful were the gifts from 
Fairyland that came to Robin when he was a 
baby. In his room suddenly would appear rich 
embroidered cushions, delicate linen garments, 
and all sorts of delicious things to eat and drink. 
So he was never in want. 

Now, when Robin was grown to six years, he 


was so mischievous that the neighbours all com- 
plained of his pranks until he was forced to run 

He wandered about until he began to get 
hungry; then, going to a tailor, he took service 
with him. He remained there until he grew so 
mischievous that he was obliged to run away 


After he had travelled a good day's journey 
from the tailor's house, he sat down by the way- 
side and, being weary, fell asleep. No sooner had 
he closed his eyes than he fancied he saw tiny 
beings tripping on the grass before him, to the 
sound of sweet music. And when he awoke, he 
found, to his surprise, a scroll lying near by on 
which were these verses, written in letters of 
gold: — 

"Robin, my only son and heir, 
For food and drink take thou no eare. 
Wish what thou wilt, and thou shalt have 
The power to tease both fool and knave. 
Change when thou wilt thine Elfish shape, 
To horse, or liog, or dog, or ape; 
And seare each idle dirty maid, 
And make all wicked men afraid. 
But love thou those that honest be, 
And help them in necessity. 


"Do thus, and all the world shall Icnow 
The pranks of Robin Goodfellow. 
If thou 'It observe my just command, 
One day thou shalt see Fairyland" 

Robin, having read this, was very joyful, for 
he perceived that he had Fairy power. He 
straightway wished for something to eat, and it 
appeared before him. Then he wished himself a 
horse, and no sooner did he say so than he became 
a handsome colt, curveting and leaping about. 
He wished himself a dog, and was one. After 
that he turned himself into any shape he liked. 
Then taking his own form again, he once more 
started on his travels. 


And from that time forward many were the 
merry tricks Robin played on those he met. 

Once, seeing a rude and clownish fellow search- 
ing for a lost horse, Robin turned himself into a 
horse, and led the rude man a chase over field 
and briar, until he allowed the man to catch him 
and mount his back. Then Robin jumped into a 
stream and, turning into a fish, swam to the shore 
and ran away, laughing, "Ho ! Ho ! Ho ! " — leaving 
the man to get out of the water as best he could. 

At night Robin often visited farmers' houses, 
and helped the neat housemaids with their work, 


breaking their hemp, dressing their flax, and 
spinning their yarn. One night he came to a 
house where there was a good and handsome 
maid. And while she slept Robin did her work, 
more than she could have done in twelve hours. 
The maid wondered the next morning to see all 
done so finely, and that night she watched to 
see what would follow. 

At twelve of the clock in came Robin and, sing- 
ing, fell to work breaking her hemp and doing her 
spinning, and as he worked he sang a mad song : — 

" Within and out, in and out, round as a ball, 
With hither and thither, as straight as a line, 
With lily and germander, and sops of wine, 

With sweetbriar, 

And bonfire, 

And strawberry wire, 

And columbine! " 

The maid, seeing that he had no clothes, pitied 

him, and the next night she laid out a little suit 

that she had cut and sewed during the day. 

Robin, coming in, spied the clothes, whereat he 

started, and said : — 

" 'T is not your garments new or old 
That Robin loves. I feel no cold. 
Had you left me milk or cream, 
You should have had a pleasant dream, 
Because you left no drop or crumb, 
Robin never more will come." 

And with that he ran out of the door, laughing 
loudly, "Ho! Ho! Ho!" 


And many other mad pranks did Robin Good- 
fellow play. At times he turned himself into a 
will-o'-the-wisp, misleading lovers who came over 
the heath; at other times he punished knaves and 
idle maids, or rewarded good and worthy people. 
And always he ran laughing, "Ho! Ho! Ho!" 


At length Oberon, King of Fairyland, seeing 
so many honest and merry tricks, called one 
night to Robin as he lay sleeping in the green- 
wood : — 

" Robin, my son, come, quickly rise ! 
First stretch, then yawn, and rub your eyes. 
For you must go with me to-night 
To dance with Fairy, Elf, and Sprite. 
Come quickly now. my roguish son, 
'T is time our sports were well begun," 

Robin, hearing this, woke and rose hastily, and, 
looking about, saw in the moonlight King Oberon, 
and many Fairies with him dressed in green silk. 
And all these did welcome Robin Goodfellow into 
their company. 

King Oberon took Robin by the hand and led 
him a dance. And near by sat little Tom Thumb, 
the Fairy piper, no bigger than a plum. His bag- 
pipe was made of a wren's quill and the skin of 
a tiny bug. This pipe made music so shrill and 
sweet, that naught might be compared to it. 


Then all the Fairies for joy did circle Robin 

around, and in a ring did dance about him; and 

Robin Goodfellow danced in the midst of them, 

and sang this song: — 

"Quick and nimble! 
Quick and nimble! 
Round about little ones ! 
In and out, wheel about, 
Run, hop t or amble! 

"Elves, Urchins, Goblins all, and little Fairies, 
Who do pinch black and blue, idle maids in dairies, x 
Make a ring on the grass, with your quick measures. 
Tom shall play, and I will sing, for all your pleasures. 

"Quick and nimble! 
Quick and nimble! 
Round about little ones! 
In and out, wheel about, 
Run, hop, or amble!* 3 

Thus they danced for a good space, then sat 
themselves down upon the grass, and the Fairies 
told Robin of many Elfish tricks and merry ca- 
pers; until, the time passing, a shepherd in a field 
near by blew his pipes so loudly that he fright- 
ened little Tom Thumb. 

The Fairies punished the shepherd by the loss 
of his pipes, so that they presently broke in his 
hand, to his great amazement. Hereat Robin 
Goodfellow laughed, "Ho! Ho! Ho!" 

The morning being come, at cock-crow the 
Fairies hastened away to Fairyland, where I 
think they yet remain. 


From Ireland 

Some folk say that the Little People, the Fairies, 
were once angels that were cast out of Heaven 
for their sins. They fell to earth and grew smaller 
and smaller. And to-day they dance on moonlit 
nights in Fairy Rings, and play all manner of 

Be that as it may, one night a merry troop of 
them was capering in the moonshine. On a nice 
green sward by a river's bank the little fellows 
were dancing hand-in-hand, with their red caps 
wagging at every bound. And so light were their 
feet that the dew trembled, but was not dis- 
turbed. So they danced, spinning around and 
around, and twirling, and bobbing, and diving, 
until one of them chirped : — 

'* Cease I Cease with your humming I 
Here 's an end to your mumming I 
By my smell 
I can tell 
That a Priest is now coming!" 

And away all the Fairies scampered as fast as 
they could. .Some hid under the green leaves of 
the Foxglove, their little caps peeping out like 
crimson bells. Others crept under the shadow 
of stones, or beneath the bank of the river. 


And scarcely had they done so, when along 
came Father Horrigan riding slowly on his pony. 
He was thinking to himself that he would end his 
journey at the first cabin he came to. And so he 
did, for soon he stopped at the little house of 
Dermod Leary, and, lifting the latch, walked in 
with: "A blessing on all here!" 

And a welcome guest, you may be sure, was 
Father Horrigan, for no man was better loved 
in all that country. But when Dermod saw him 
enter, he was troubled, for he had nothing to offer 
for supper except some potatoes that his wife 
was boiling in a pot over the fire. Then he re- 
membered that he had set a net in the river. 
"There'll be no harm," thought he, "in my step- 
ping down to see if anything has been caught." 

So down to the river went Dermod. He found 
as fine a salmon in the net as ever jumped from 
water. But as he was taking it out, the net was 
jerked from his hands, and away the salmon went, 
swimming along as though nothing had happened. 

Dermod looked sorrowfully at the wake that 
the fish left shining like a line of silver in the 

"May bitter luck attend you night and day!" 
cried he, shaking his fist. "Some evil thing sure 
it was that helped you, for did I not feel it pull 
the net out of my hand!" 

"You're all wrong, Dermod! There were a 


hundred or more of us pulling against you!" 
squeaked a little voice near his feet, and the whole 
troop of Fairies — hundreds and hundreds of 
them — came rushing from their hiding-places, 
and stood before him, their red caps nodding 

Dermod gazed at them in wonder; then one of 
the Fairies said : — 

"Make yourself noways uneasy about the 
Priest's supper, Dermod Leary. If you will go 
back and ask him one question for us, there'll be 
as fine a supper spread before him in no time, as 
ever was put on table." 

"I'll have nothing to do with you at all, at 
all!" answered Dermod; "I know better than to 
sell my soul to the likes of you!" 

But the little Fairy was not to be repulsed. 
"Will you ask the Priest just one civil question 
for us, Dermod?" said he. 

Dermod considered for a moment. "I see no 
objection," said he, "to the same. But I'll have 
nothing to do with your supper, mind that!" 

The Little People all crowded near him, while 
the Fairy answered : — 

"Go and ask Father Horrigan to tell us whether 
our souls will be saved at the Last Day. And, if 
you wish us well, Dermod Leary, you will bring 
the word that he says." 

Away went Dermod to his cabin. 


"Please, your reverence," said he to Father 
Horrigan, "may I make bold to ask your honour 
a question?" 

"What is it?" said Father Horrigan. 
?• "Why, then," said Dermod, "will the souls of 
the Little People be saved at the Last Day?" 

"Who bids you ask that question, Leary?" 
said Father Horrigan, fixing his eyes sternly on 
Dermod. * 

"I'll tell no lies about the matter, nothing in 
life but the truth," answered Dermod. " 'T was 
the Little People themselves who sent me. They 
are in thousands down on the bank of the river 
waiting for your word." 

"Go back," said Father Horrigan, "and tell 
them that if they want to know they must come 
here to me themselves, and I'll answer that and 
any other question." 

So back Dermod hurried to the river. The 
Fairies came swarming around him. They pressed 
close to his feet, with faces upturned as they 
anxiously waited. And Dermod, brave man that 
he was, spoke out boldly and gave them the 
Priest's message. And when they heard that, the 
whole multitude of little Fairies uttered shrill 
cries and groans; and they whisked past Dermod 
in such numbers that he was quite bewildered. 
Then in a trice he found himself alone. 

He went slowly back to his cabin. He opened 





the door. The fire was burning brightly. The 
candles were lighted. And good Father Horrigan 
was seated comfortably at the table, a pitcher 
of new milk before him, and a bit of fresh butter, 
from Dermod's cow. And Dermod's wife was 
handing him a big, handsome potato, whose white, 
mealy insides were bursting through its skin, and 
smoking like a hard-ridden horse on a frosty 

Dermod sat down at the table, and began to 
eat without a word. And when Father Horrigan 
was through the good Priest smacked his lips, 
and said that he had relished the hot tasty pota- 
toes, more than a dozen fat salmon, and a whole 
Fairy feast! 


From Ireland 

In Tipperary is one of the most singularly shaped 
hills in the world. It has a peak at the top like a 
conical nightcap. On this very peak, long years 
ago, a herdsman spent his nights and days watch- 
ing the herd. Now, the hill was ancient Fairy 
ground, and the Little People were angry that 
the scene of their light and airy gambols should 
be trampled by the rude hoofs of bulls and cows. 
The lowing of the cattle sounded sad in their 
ears. So the Queen of the Fairies determined to 
drive away the herdsman. 

One night the moon shone brightly on the hill. 
The cattle were lying down. The herdsman, 
wrapped in his mantle, was watching the twin- 
kling stars, when suddenly there appeared before 
him a great horse with the wings of an eagle, and 
the tail of a dragon. This beast hissed loudly and 
spat fire, and, while the herdsman was looking on, 
half dead with fright, it turned into a little old 
man, lame of leg, with a bull's head around which 
flames were playing. 

The next moment the little old man changed 
into a huge ape, with duck's feet, and a turkey- 


cock's tail. And then the Queen of the Fairies — 
for of course it was she — roared, neighed, hissed, 
bellowed, howled, and hooted so fearfully that 
the poor herdsman in terror covered his head 
with liis mantle. But it was of no use, for with 
one puff of wind she blew away the fold of his 
mantle, let him hold it never so tightly. As for 
the poor man, he could not stir or close his eyes, 
but was forced to sit there gazing at this terrible 
sight until his hair lifted his hat half a foot from 
his head, and his teeth chattered so that they 
almost fell out of his mouth. 

Meanwhile the frightened cattle scampered 
about like mad, as if bitten by fleas, and so they 
continued to do until the sun rose. Then the 
Fairy Queen disappeared. 

Night after night, the same thing happened, 
and the cattle went mad. Some fell into pits, or 
tumbled into the river and were drowned. By 
and by, not a herdsman was willing to tend the 
cattle at night. The farmer who owned the hill 
offered triple and quadruple wages, but not a 
man was found who would face the terrors of the 
Fairy Ring. The herd gradually thinned, and 
the Fairies, on moonlit nights, danced and gam- 
bolled as merrily as before, sipping dewdrops from 
acorn-cups, and spreading their feasts on the 
heads of mushrooms. 

Now, there dwelt in that part of the country 


a man named Larry Hoolahan, who played on 
the pipes better than any other player within 
fifteen parishes. A dashing, roving blade was 
Larry, and afraid of nothing. One day the 
farmer met him, and told him all his misfor- 

"If that is what ails you," said Larry, "make 
your mind easy. Were there as many Fairies on 
the hill as there are potato-blossoms in Tipper- 
ary, I would face them. It would be a queer thing, 
indeed, if I, who was never afraid of a proper man, 
should turn my back on a Fairy not the bigness 
of one's thumb!" 

"Larry," said the farmer, "do not talk so bold, 
for you know not who is hearing you! But, if 
you make your words good, and watch my herds 
for a week on top of the hill, your hand shall be 
free of my dish till the sun has burnt itself down 
to the bigness of a farthing rushlight!" 

The bargain was struck, and Larry went to the 
hill-top when the moon was beginning to peep 
over its brow. He took his seat on a big stone 
under a hollow of the hill, with his back to the 
wind, and pulled out his pipes. 

He had not played long when the voices of the 
Fairies were heard upon the blast like a low stream 
of music. Presently they burst into a loud laugh, 
and Larry could plainly hear one say : — 

"What! Another man upon the Fairies' Ring! 


Go to him, Queen, and make him repent of his 
rashness I" 

And away they flew, and Larry felt them pass 
by his face like a swarm of midges. Looking up 
hastily he saw, between the moon and him, a great 
black cat, standing on the very tip of its claws, 
with its back up, and mewing with a voice like 
a water-mill. 

Presently it swelled up toward the sky, and, 
turning round on its left hind leg, whirled till it 
fell to the ground. Then it started up in the 
shape of a salmon with a cravat round its neck, 
and wearing a pair of new top-boots. 

" Go on, my jewel ! " said Larry. "If you dance, 
I'll pipe," and he struck up. 

But the Queen of the Fairies — for of course 
it was she — turned into this and that and the 
other; but still Larry played on, as well as he 
knew how. At last she lost patience, and changed 
herself into a calf, milk-white as the cream of 
Cork, and with eyes as mild as those of a loving 

She came up gentle and fawning, hoping to 
throw him off his guard, and then to work him 
some wrong. But Larry was not so deceived, for 
when she came near, dropping his pipes, he leaped 
on her back. 

Now, from the top of the hill, as you look west- 
ward, you may see the broad river Shannon, full 


ten miles away. On this night its waters shone 
beautifully under the moon, and no sooner had 
Larry leaped on the back of the Fairy Queen 
than she sprang from the hill-top, and bounded 
clear at one jump, over the Shannon. It was 
done in a second; and, when she alighted on the 
distant bank, she kicked up her heels, and flung 
Larry on the soft turf. 

No sooner was Larry thus planted than he 
looked her straight in the face, and cried out: — 

"By my w T ord, well done! That was not a bad 
leap, for a calf J" 

She gazed at him for a moment, and then, 
assuming her own shape, said : — 

"Larry Hoolahan, you are a bold fellow! Will 
you go back the way you came?" 

"And that's what I will!" said he, "if you'll 
let me!" 

So she changed to a calf again, and Larry got 
on her back. At another bound they were stand- 
ing inside the Fairy Ring. 

Then the Queen, once more assuming her own 
shape, addressed him. 

"You have shown so mueh courage, Larry 
Hoolahan," said she, "that while you keep herds 
on this hill, you shall not be molested by me or 
mine. The day dawns. Go down to the farmer, 
and tell him this. And, if anything I can do will 
be of service to you, ask and you shall have it." 


She vanished accordingly, and kept her word 
in never visiting the hill during Larry's lifetime; 
but he never troubled her with requests. He 
piped, and ate and drank at the farmer's expense, 
and roosted in the chimney-corner, occasionally 
casting an eye on the herd. He died at last; and 
is buried in a green valley of pleasant Tipperary. 
But whether the Fairies returned to the hill after 
his death is more than I can say. 


From Bohemia 

Once upon a time there was a little girl named 
Betty. Her mother was a widow and very poor, 
and owned only a tumble-down house and two 
goats. Nevertheless, Betty was always cheerful. 
From Spring to Autumn she pastured the goats 
in the birch wood. Every morning when she left 
home, her mother gave her a little basket in 
which were a slice of bread and a spindle. 

"My child," she said, "work hard to-day and 
fill the spindle before you return." 

And, as Betty had no distaff, she wound the 
flax around her head, took the basket, and, with 
a skip and a jump, led her goats to the birch wood. 
There she sat under a tree and drew fibres of the 
flax from her head with her left hand, and let 
down the spindle with her right, so that it just 
hummed over the ground. And all the while she 
sang merrily, and the goats nibbled the green 

When the sun showed that it was midday she 
put aside her work, called her goats, and, after 
giving them each a morsel of bread, bounded 
into the wood to look for strawberries. When she 
came back she ate her fruit and bread, and, fold- 


ing her hands, danced and sang. The goats, enjoy- 
ing themselves among the green grass, thought: 
"What a merry shepherdess we have!" After 
her dance, she spun again. And at evening she 
drove her goats home, and her mother never had 
to scold her for bringing the spindle back empty. 

One lovely Spring day, just as Betty sprang up 
to dance, suddenly — where she came, there she 
came! — a beautiful maiden stood before her. 
She wore a white dress as thin as gossamer, golden 
hair flowed to her waist, and on her head was a 
garland of wood flowers. Betty was struck dumb 
with astonishment. 

The maiden smiled at her, and said in a very 
sweet voice: — 

"Betty, are you fond of dancing?" 

When the maiden spoke so prettily, Betty's 
terror quitted her, and she answered : — 

"Oh! I should like to dance all day!" 

"Come, then, let us dance together. I will 
teach you," said the maiden. 

And she took Betty by the waist, and began 
to dance with her. 

As they circled, such delicious music sounded 
over their heads that Betty's heart skipped within 
her. The musicians sat on branches of the birches. 
They were clad in black, ash-coloured, and var- 
iegated coats. They were choice musicians who 
had come together at the call of the beauti- 


ful maiden — nightingales, larks, linnets, gold- 
finches, thrushes, blackbirds, and a very skillful 
mocking-bird. Betty's cheeks flamed, her eyes 
glittered, she forgot her task and her goats. She 
could only gaze at her partner, who whirled her 
around with the most charming movements, and 
so lightly that the grass did not bend beneath 
her delicate weight. 

They danced from noon till eve, and Betty's 
feet were neither weary nor sore. Then the beau- 
tiful maiden stopped, the music ceased, and as 
she came, so she went, and she vanished as if the 
earth had swallowed her. 

Betty looked about. The sun had set. She 
clapped her hands to the top of her head, and 
remembered that her spindle was by no means 
full. She took the flax and put it with the spindle 
into her basket, and drove the goats home. That 
night her mother did not ask to see her work. 

Next morning Betty again drove the goats to 
pasture. All happened as before. Where she 
came, there she came! — and the beautiful 
maiden seized Betty by the waist, and they 
danced from noon till eve. 

Then Betty saw that the sun was setting and 
her spindle nearly empty, so she began to cry. 
But the maiden put her hands to Betty's head, 
took off the flax, and twined it round the stem of 
a slender birch, and began to spin. The spindle 


just swung over the ground. It grew fuller and 
fuller, and before the sun set behind the wood, 
all the yarn was spun. Giving the full spindle 
into Betty's hands, the maiden said; — 

"Reel and grumble not! 
Reel and grumble not!" 

And as she came, so she went, and she van- 
ished as if the ground had swallowed her. Betty 
drove the goats home, and gave her mother the 
full spindle. 

Well, the next day all happened as before. 
Where she came, there she came ! — and the 
beautiful maiden seized Betty by the waist, and 
they danced from noon to eve. Then the maiden 
handed Betty a covered basket, saying: — 

"Peep not, but go home! 
Peep not, but go home!" 

And as she came, so she went, and she vanished 
as if the ground had swallowed her. 

At first Betty was afraid to peep into the bas- 
ket, but when she was halfway home, she could 
not restrain herself. She lifted the cover and 
peeped, and, oh! how disappointed she was when 
she saw that the basket was full of birch leaves ! 
She began to cry, and threw out two handfuls 
of the leaves, and was going to shake them all 
out of the basket, but she thought to herself: 
"They '11 make good litter for the goats."- 


When she reached home her mother was wait- 
ing for her at the door. 

"What sort of a spindle did you bring home to 
me yesterday?" cried she. "After you left this 
morning I began to reel. I reeled and I reeled, 
and the spindle remained full. One skein! two 
skeins! three skeins! and the spindle was yet full! 
'What evil spirit has spun you?' grumbled I; 
and at that instant the yarn vanished from the 
spindle. Tell me the meaning of this." 

So Betty confessed how she had danced with 
the beautiful maiden who had given her the full 
spindle, and who had said: "Reel and grumble 

"That was a Wood-Fairy!" cried her mother 
in astonishment. "About noon in the Spring- 
time, the Wood-Ladies dance. Lucky for you 
that she did not tickle you to death ! It 's a pity 
that you did not tell me before, for I might have 
had a room full of yarn, if I had reeled and grum- 
bled not." 

Then Betty bethought herself of the basket of 
leaves. She lifted the cover and peeped in again. 

' * Look ! Look ! Mother ! " she cried. 

Her mother looked and clapped her hands. The 
birch leaves were turned to gold! 

"She told me not to peep until I reached 
home," said Betty, "but I disobeyed and threw 
two handfuls of the leaves away.'^ 


"Lucky for you that you did not throw them 
all away!" exclaimed her mother. 

The next morning they both went to the place 
where Betty had thrown out the leaves, but on 
the road lay nothing but birch leaves. However, 
the gold Betty had brought home was enough 
to make them rich. Her mother bought a fine 
house and garden. They had many cattle. Betty 
had handsome clothes, and she did not need 
to pasture the goats any more. But though she 
had everything she desired, nothing gave her so 
great delight as the dance with the Wood-Fairy. 
She often went to the birch wood hoping to 
see the beautiful maiden, but she never again 
set eyes upon her. 


By the moon we sport and play, 

With the night begins our day; 

As we dance, the dew doth fall — 

Trip it, little Urchins all, 

Lightly as the little bee, 

Two by two, and three by three; 

And about go we! And about go we! 

Oh, you must needs dance and sing, 
Which if you refuse to do, 
We will pinch you black and blue; 
And about go we ! 

Round about, round about, in a fine ring-a, 
Thus we dance, thus we dance, and thus we 

Trip and go, to and fro, over this green-a, 
All about, in and out, for our brave Queen-a. 

We have danced round about, in a fine ring-a, 
We have danced lustily, and thus we sing-a ; 
All about, in and out, over this green-a, 
To and fro, trip and go, to our brave Queen-a. 
The Maydes Metamorphosis (1600) 


*T is the Midnight Hour! 
The Moon hangs white! 
Mortal beware, 
'T is Fairy Night! 

From Elfin Mound, 
And Fairy Hill, 
Comes music sweet, 
And laughter shrill! 

Mortal beware, 
For Fairy-Spell 
Lies on meadow, 
Wood and dell! 


From Ireland 

There once lived a lad in old Ireland named Lus- 
more. He had a great hump on his back, and 
whenever he sat down he had to rest his chin on 
his knee for support. But, in spite of this, he 
was as happy as a cricket, and used to go about the 
country with a sprig of Fairy-cap, or Foxglove, in 
his little straw hat. He went from house to house 
plaiting baskets out of rushes, and in that way he 
earned a living. And he was so merry that people 
always gave him a penny more than he asked. 

One evening, he w T as returning from a distant 
town, and as he walked slowly on account of his 
hump, it grew dark before he could reach home. 
He came to an old mound by the side of the road, 
and, being tired, sat down on it to rest. 

He had not been sitting there long when he 
heard strains of music, and many little voices 
singing sweetly. He laid his ear to the mound, and 
perceived that the music and singing came from 
inside it. And he could hear the words that the 
little voices were chanting over and over again : — 

"Monday! Tuesday I 
Monday! Tuesday! 
Monday! Tuesday!" 


It was all so very sweet, that Lusmore listened 
with delight; but by and by he grew tired of hear- 
ing the same words sung over and over. He 
waited politely until the voices had finished iheir 
song, then he called: — 

"And Wednesday!" 

The Fairies — for it was the singing of Fairies 
that he heard — were so pleased with Lusmore's 
addition to their words, that they pulled him 
right down through the top of the mound with 
the speed of a whirlwind. And he went falling and 
twirling round and round as light as a feather. 

He found himself in a palace so bright that it 

dazzled his eyes. Then all the Fairies stopped 

capering and dancing, and came crowding around 

him. And one, wearing a crown, stepped forward 

and said : — 

"Lusmore! Lusmore! 
The hump that you wore, 
On your back is no more. 
Look down mi the floor, 
And see it, Lusmore J" 

And as these words were being said, Lusmore 
felt himself grow so light and happy, that he 
could have bounded up to the moon. And he saw 
his hump tumble off his back and roll on the floor. 
Then the Fairies took hands, and danced around 
him, and as they did so he became dizzy and fell 


When he opened his eyes it was broad daylight, 
and the sun was shining, and the birds were sing- 
ing, and cows and sheep were grazing peacefully 
around him. He put his hand to his hump. It 
was gone! And there he was, as tall, straight, and 
handsome as any other lad in Ireland. And, be- 
sides all that, he was dressed in a full suit of beau- 
tiful clothes. 

He went toward his home stepping out lightly, 
and jumping high at every step, so full of joy was 
he. And as he passed his neighbours, they hardly 
knew him without his hump, and because he was 
so straight and handsome, and was dressed so 

Now, in another village, not far away, lived a 
lad named Jack Madden. He also had a great 
hump on his back. He was a peevish, cunning 
creature, and liked to scratch and pinch all who 
came near him. 

When he heard how the Fairies had taken away 
Lusmore's hump, he decided that he, too, would 
visit them. So one night after darkness had 
fallen, he sat down on the mound all alone, and 
waited. He had not been there long before he 
heard the music, and the sweet voices sing- 

"Monday! Tuesday! 
Monday! Tuesday! 
Monday! Tuesday! 
And Wednesday!" 


And as he was in a very great hurry to get rid 
of his hump, he did not wait for the Fairies to 
finish their song, but yelled out, thinking that 
two days were better than one: — 

"And Thursday and Friday!" 

No sooner had the words left his lips, than he 
was taken up quickly, and whisked through the 
mound with terrific force. And the Fairies came 
crowding around him, screeching and buzzing 
with anger, and crying out : — 

"Our song you have spoiled! 
Our song you have spoiled! 
Our song you have spoiled!" 

Then the one wearing the crown stepped for- 
ward, and said : — 

* * Jack Madden ! Jack Madden ! 
Your words came so bad in, 
That your life we will sadden! 
Here's two humps for Jack Madden! 9 ' 

And quick as a wink, twenty Fairies brought 
Lusmore's hump and clapped it down on Jack 
Madden's back, and there it was fixed as firmly 
as if nailed on with tenpenny nails. 

Then out of the mound they lacked him. And 
when morning w T as come, he crept home with the 
two humps on his back — and he is wearing them 


From Cornwall 

Long ago in Cornwall, on a hillock called "the 
Gump," there was a Fairy Ring. Many a good 
old man or woman, on moonlit nights, had seen 
the Fairies dancing there at their revels, and had 
been rewarded with gifts small but rich. 

Now, there was one greedy old man, who, hav- 
ing heard his neighbours tell of the Fairy Gold at 
the revels, decided to steal some of the treasure. 
So on a moonlit night, when all was quiet, he 
stole softly up to "the Gump." 

As he drew near he heard delightful music, 
which seemed to come from inside the hillock. 
The notes were now slow and solemn, and now 
quick and gay, so that the old man had to weep 
and laugh in one breath. Then before he knew 
it, he began to dance to the Fairy measure. He 
was forced by some unseen power to whirl round 
and round; but in spite of this he kept his wits 
about him, and watched to see what would hap- 

Suddenly there was a crashing sound, and a 
door in the hillock opened. Instantly the old man 
saw that everything about him was ablaze with 
coloured lights. Each blade of grass was hung 


with tiny bright lamps, and every tree and bush 
was illuminated with stars. 

Out of the opening in the hillock marched a 
band of Goblins, as if to clear the way. Then 
came a number of Fairy musicians playing on 
every kind of musical instrument. These were 
followed by troop after troop of Elfin soldiers, 
carrying waving banners. 

The soldiers arranged themselves in two files 
on either side of the door; but the Goblins, much 
to the old man's disgust, placed themselves close 
behind him. As they were no bigger than his 
thumb, he thought to himself: "If they bother 
me, I can easily step on them and crush them 
with my foot." 

This vast array having disposed itself, next 
from the hillock came a crowd of Elfin servants 
carrying pitchers of silver and gold, and goblets 
cut out of diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and other 
precious stones. Servants followed bearing aloft 
gold and silver platters heaped high with the rich- 
est meats, pastries, candies, and glowing fruits. 
A number of Elfin boys, clad in crimson, then set 
out small tables made of ivory curiously carved, 
and the servants arranged the feast with order. 

Then out of the hillock came crowding thou- 
sands and thousands of lovely winged Fairies 
clad in gossamer robes of every colour, like the 


The music suddenly changed to low, delicate 
notes, and the old man found that he was no 
longer forced to dance and whirl about. And as 
he stood still, the perfume of a thousand rich 
flowers filled the air, and the whole vast host of 
Fairies began to sing a song as clear and sweet as 
the tinkle of silver bells. 

Then from the hillock issued forth line after 
line of Elfin boys dressed in green and gold, and 
behind them on an ivory throne, borne aloft by 
a hundred Fairies, came the King and Queen of 
Fairyland blazing with beauty and jewels. 

The throne was placed upon the hillock, which 
immediately bloomed with lilies and roses. Be- 
fore the King and Queen was set the most beau- 
tiful of all the little tables laden with gold and 
silver dishes and precious goblets. The Fairies 
took their places at the other tables, and began 
to feast with a will. 

"Now," thought the old man, "my time is 
come! If only I can creep up, without being seen, 
to the Fairy King's table, I shall be able to snatch 
enough gold to make me rich for life." 

And with his greedy mind set on this, he 
crouched down, and began very slowly to creep 
toward the throne. But he did not see that thou- 
sands of Goblins had cast fine threads about his 
body, and were holding the ends in their hands. 

Trembling with greed, the old man crept closer 


and closer to the Fairy King and Queen. He took 
his hat from his head, and raised it carefully to 
cover the royal throne and table; and, as he 
did so, he heard a shrill whistle. Instantly his 
hand was fixed powerless in the air. Then, with a 
sudden crash, all became dark around him. 

"Whirr! Whirr! Whirr!" and he heard as if a 
flight of bees were brushing past his ears, and 
suddenly, his body, from head to foot, was 
stabbed with pins and pinched with tweezers. 
Then he was thrown violently upon his back with 
his arms outstretched; and his arms and legs were 
fastened to the ground with magic chains. His 
tongue seemed tied with cords so that he could 
not call out. 

And as he lay there trembling with fright and 

pain, he felt as though swarms of insects were 

running over him. Then he saw standing on his 

nose a grinning Goblin. This little monster 

stamped and jumped with great delight; then 

making a fearful grimace, shouted: — 

"Away! Away! 
I smell the day!" 

And on this, an army of Goblins, Fairies, and 
Elves, who were running up and down the old 
man's body, stabbing him with pins, and pinch- 
ing him with tweezers, jumped quickly down, and 
rushed into the hillock; which closed immediately. 
And the old man saw the Fairies no more. 


At length the sun rose and he found that he 
was tied to the ground with a myriad of gossa- 
mer webs, which were covered with dew-drops 
that glistened like diamonds in the sunlight. 

He shook himself free, and got up. Wet, cold, 
ashamed, and pinched black and blue, he re- 
turned to his home. And you may be sure that 
he never again tried to steal the Fairy Gold. 


From Ireland 

It was in the good days, when the Little People 
were more frequently seen than they are in these 
unbelieving times, that a farmer, named Mick 
Purcell, rented a few acres of barren ground not 
far from the city of Cork. 

Mick had a wife and seven children. They did 
all that they could to get on, which was very 
little, for the poor man had no child grown big 
enough to help him in his work; and all that the 
poor woman could do was to mind the children, 
milk the cow, boil the potatoes, and carry the 
eggs to market. So besides the difficulty of get- 
ting enough to eat, it was hard on them to pay 
the rent. 

Well, they did manage to get along for a good 
while; but at last came a bad year, and the little 
field of oats was spoiled, and the chickens died 
of the pip, and the pig got the measles, and poor 
Mick found that he had n't enough to pay half 
his rent. 

"Why, then, Molly," said he, "what 'II we 

"Wisha, then, mavourneen, what would you 
do but take the cow to the Fair of Cork, and sell 


her?" said she. "And Monday is Fair-day, so 
you must go to-morrow." 

"And what '11 we do when she's gone?" said 

"Never a know I know, Mick, but sure God 
won't leave us without help. And you know how 
good He was to us when little Billy was sick, and 
we had nothing at all for him to take — that good . 
doctor gentleman came riding past and asked 
for a drink of milk, and he gave us two shillings, 
and sent me things and a bottle for the child; and 
he came to see Billy and never left off his good- 
ness until he was well." 

"Oh, you are always^hopeful, Molly, and I be- 
lieve you are right, after all," Mick said, "so I 
won't be sorry for selling the cow. I'll go to- 
morrow, and you must put a needle and thread 
through my coat, for you know it's ripped under 
the arm." 

Molly told him he should have everything 
right. And about twelve o'clock the next day 
he left her, after having promised not to sell his 
cow except for the highest penny. 

He drove the beast slowly through a little 
stream that crossed the road under the walls of 
an old fort; and as he passed, he glanced his eyes 
on a pile of stones and an old elder tree that 
stood up sharply against the sky. 

"Oh, then, if only I had half the Fairy money 


that is buried in yon fort, 't is n't driving this 
cow I'd be now!" said he aloud. 

Then he moved on after his beast. 'T was a 
fine day, and the sun shone brightly, and after 
he had gone six miles, he came to that hill — 
Bottle Hill it is called now, but that was not the 
name of it then. 

"Good morrow, Mick!" said a little voice, 
and with that a little man started up out of the 

"Good morrow, kindly," said Mick, and he 
looked at the stranger who was like a dwarf with 
a bit of an old wrinkled face, for all the world 
like a dried cauliflower; only he had a sharp red 
nose, red eyes, and white hair. His eyes were 
never quiet, but looked at everything; and it 
made Mick's blood run cold just to see them roll 
so rapidly from side to side. 

In truth Miek did not like the little man's com- 
pany at all, and he drove his cow somewhat 
faster; but the little man kept up with him. Out 
of the corner of his eye Mick could see that he 
moved over the road without lifting one foot 
after the other; and the poor fellow's heart 
trembled within him. 

"Where are you going with that cow, honest 
man?" said the little man at last. 

"To the Fair of Cork, then," said Mick, trem- 
bling even more at the shrill and piercing voice. 


"Are you going to sell her?" asked the little 

"Why, then, what else am I going for, but to 
sell her?" 

"Will you sell her to me?" 

Mick started. He was afraid to have anything 
to do with the little man, but he was more afraid 
to say no. 

"I'll tell you what, I'll give you this bottle," 
said the little man, pulling a bottle from under 
his coat. 

Mick looked at him and the bottle, and in spite 
of his terror he could not help bursting into a 
loud fit of laughter. 

"Laugh if you will!" said the little man, "but 
I tell you that this bottle is better for you than 
all the money you will get for the cow at Cork — 
aye, than ten thousand times as much." 

Mick laughed again. "Why, then," said he, 
"do you think I am such a fool as to give my good 
cow for a bottle — and an empty one, too ! In- 
deed, then, I won't!" 

"You'd better give me the cow, and take the 
bottle — you'll not be sorry for it," said the little 

"Why, then, what would Molly say? I'd never 
hear the last of it! And how should I pay the 
rent? And what should we do without a penny 
of money?" 


"When you go home, never mind if your wife 
is angry," answered the little man, "but quiet 
yourself, and make her sweep the room, and set 
the table in the middle of the floor, and spread 
the best cover on it. Then put the bottle on the 
ground, saying these words: 'Bottle, do your 
duty!' And you will see the end of it." 

"And is this all?" said Mick. 

"No more," said the stranger, forcing the bot- 
tle into Mick's hand. Then he moved swiftly off 
after the cow. 

Well, Mick, rather sick at heart, retraced his 
steps toward his cabin, and as he went he could 
not help turning his head to look after the little 
man; but he had vanished completely. 

"He can't belong to this earth," exclaimed 
Mick in horror to himself. "But where is the 
cow?" She, too, was gone; and Mick hurried 
homeward muttering prayers and holding fast 
the bottle. 

He soon reached his cabin, and surprised his 
wife sitting over the turf fire in the big chimney. 

"Oh! Mick, are you come back?" said she. 
"Sure you were n't at Cork all the way? What 
has happened to you? Where is the cow? Did 
you sell her? How much money did you get for 
her? What news have you? Tell us everything." 

"Why, then, Molly, if you'll give me time, I'll 
tell you all about it!" 


" Oh ! then, you sold her. Where 's the money? " 

"Arrah! stop a while, Molly, and I'll tell you 
all about it!" 

"But what is that bottle under your waist- 
coat?" said Molly, seeing its neck sticking out. 

"Why, then, be easy about it," said Mick, "till 
I tell it you." And putting the bottle on the table, 
he added, "That's all I got for the cow." 

His poor wife was thunderstruck. She sat cry- 
ing, while Mick told her his story, with many a 
crossing and blessing between him and harm. She 
could not help believing him, for she had great 
faith in Fairies. So she got up, and, without say- 
ing a word, began to sweep the earthen floor with 
a bunch of heather. Then she tidied everything, 
and put the long table in the middle of the room, 
and spread over it a clean cloth. 

And then Mick, placing the bottle on the 
ground, said: "Bottle, do your duty!" 

"Look! Look there, mammy!" cried his eldest 
son. "Look there! Look there!" and he sprang 
to his mother's side, as two tiny fellows rose like 
light from the bottle; and in an instant they cov- 
ered the table with dishes and plates of gold and 
silver, full of the finest victuals that ever were 
seen. And when all was done, the two tiny fel- 
lows went into the bottle again. 

Mick and his wife looked at everything with 
astonishment; they had never seen such dishes 


and plates before, and the very sight of them al- 
most took their appetites away. But at length 
Molly said: — 

"Come and sit down, Mick, and try to eat a 
bit. Sure, you ought to be hungry, after such a 
good day's work!" 

So they all sat down at the table. After they 
had eaten as much as they wished, Molly said: — 

"I wonder will those two good, little gentlemen 
carry away these fine things." 

They waited, but no one came; so Molly put 
the dishes and plates carefully aside. The next 
day Mick went to Cork and sold some of them, 
and bought a horse and cart. 

Weeks passed by, and the neighbours saw that 
Mick was making money; and, though he and 
his wife did all they could to keep the bottle a 
secret, their landlord soon found out about it. 
Then he took the bottle by force away from Mick, 
and carried it carefully home. 

As for Mick and his wife, they had so much 
money left that the loss of the bottle did not 
worry them much at first; but they kept on 
spending their wealth as if there was no end to 
it. And to make a long story short, they became 
poorer and poorer, until they had to sell their 
last cow. 

So one morning early, Mick once more drove 
his cow to the Fair of Cork. It was hardly day- 


break when he left home, and he walked on until 
he reached the big hill; and just as he got to its 
top, and cast his eyes before and around him, up 
started the little man out of the hill. 

"Well, Mick Purcell," said he, "I told you that 
you would be a rich man!" 

"Indeed, then, so I was, that is no lie for you, 
sir," replied Mick. "But it's not rich I am now! 
And if you happen to have another bottle, here 
is the cow for it." 

"And here is the bottle!" said the little man, 
smiling. "You know what to do with it." 

And with that both the cow and the stranger 
disappeared as they had done before. 

Mick hurried away, anxious to get home with 
the bottle. He arrived with it safely enough, and 
called out to Molly to put the room to rights; and 
to lay a clean cloth on the table. Which she did. 

Mick set the bottle on the ground, and cried 
out: "Bottle, do your duty!" 

In a twinkling two great, stout men with two 
huge clubs, issued from the bottle, and belaboured 
poor Mick and his family until they lay groaning 
on the floor. Then the two men went into the 
bottle again. ' 

Mick, as soon as he came to himself, got up and 
looked around him. He thought and he thought. 
He lifted up his wife and children, then leaving 
them to recover as best they could, he put the 


bottle under his arm, and went to visit his land- 
lord. * ' 

The landlord was having a great feast, and 
when he saw that Mick had another bottle, he 
invited him heartily to come in. 

"Show us your bottle, Mick," said he. 
* So Mick set it on the floor, and spoke the proper 
words; and in a moment the landlord tumbled 
to the floor, and all his guests were running, and 
roaring, and sprawling, and kicking, and shriek- 
ing, while the two great, stout men belaboured 
them well. 

"Stop those two scoundrels, Mick Purcell," 
shouted the landlord, "or I'll hang you!" 

"They shall never stop," said Mick, "till I get 
my own bottle that I see on top of yon shelf." 

"Give it to him! Give it to him, before we are 
killed!" cried the landlord. 

Mick put his old bottle in his bosom. Then 
the tw T o great, stout men jumped into the new 
one, and Mick carried both bottles safely home. 

And to make my story short, from that time on 
Mick prospered. He got richer than ever, and 
his son married the landlord's daughter. And 
both Miek and his wife lived to a great old age. 
They died on the same day, and at their wake the 
servants broke both bottles. But the hill has the 
name upon it; for so it will always be Bottle Hill 
to the end of the world, for this is a strange story. 


The pleasant isle of Rligen looks the Baltic water 

To the silver-sanded beaches of the Pomeranian 


And in the town of Rambin a little boy and 

Plucked the meadow-flowers together and in the 

sea-surf played. 

Alike were they in beauty if not in their de- 

He was the Amptman's first-born, the miller's 
child was she. 

Now of old the isle of Riigen was full of Dwarfs 

and Trolls, 
The brown-faced little Earth-men, the people 

without souls; 

And for every man and woman in Rligen's island 

Walking in air and sunshine, a Troll was under- 


It chanced the little maiden, one morning, strolled 

Among the haunted Nine Hills, where the Elves 

and Goblins play. 

That day, in barley fields below, the harvesters 

had known 
Of evil voices in the air, and heard the small horns 


She came not back; the search for her in field and 

wood was vain: 
They cried her east, they cried her west, but she 

came not again. 

"She's down among the Brown Dwarfs," said 
the dream- wives wise and old, 

And prayers were made, and masses said, and 
Rambin's church bell tolled. 

Five years her father mourned her; and then John 

Deitrich said : 
"I will find my little playmate, be she alive or 


He watched among the Nine Hills, he heard the 

Brown Dwarfs sing, 
And saw them dance by moonlight merrily in a 



And when their gay-robed leader tossed up his 

cap of red, 
Young Deitrich caught it as it fell, and thrust it 

on his head. 

The Troll came crouching at his feet and wept 

for lack of it. 
"Oh, give me back my magic cap, for your great 

head unfit!" 

"Nay," Deitrich said; "the Dwarf who throws 

his charmed cap away, 
Must serve its finder at his will, and for his folly 


"You stole my pretty Lisbeth, and hid her in the 

And you shall ope the door of glass and let me 

lead her forth." 

"She will not come; she's one of us; she's mine!" 

the Brown Dwarf said; 
"The day is set, the cake is baked, to-morrow we 

shall wed." 

"The fell fiend fetch thee!" Deitrich cried, "and 

keep thy foul tongue still. 
Quick! open, to thy evil world, the glass door of 

the hill!" 


The Dwarf obeyed; and youth and Troll down 

the long stairway passed, 
And saw in dim and sunless light a country 

strange and vast. 

Weird, rich, and wonderful, he saw the Elfin 

under-land, — 
Its palaces of precious stones, its streets of golden 


He came' into a banquet-hall with tables richly 

Where a young maiden served to him the red wine 

and the bread. 

How fair she seemed among the Trolls so ugly 

and so wild! 
Yet pale and very sorrowful, like one who never 

smiled ! 

Her low, sweet voice, her gold-brown hair, her 
tender blue eyes seemed 

Like something he had seen elsewhere or some- 
thing he had dreamed. 

He looked; he clasped her in his arms; he knew 

the long-lost one; 
" O Lisbeth ! See thy playmate — I am the Ampt- 

man's son!" 


She leaned her fair head on his breast, and through 

her sobs she spoke: 
"Oh, take me from this evil place, and from the 

Elfin folk! 

"And let me tread the grass-green fields and smell 

the flowers again, 
And feel the soft wind on my cheek and hear the 

dropping rain ! 

"And Oh, to hear the singing bird, the rustling of 

the tree, 
The lowing cows, the bleat of sheep, the voices of 

the sea; 

"And Oh, upon my father's knee to sit beside the 

H door, 
And hear the bell of vespers ring in Rambin 
church once more!" 

He kissed her cheek, he kissed her lips; the Brown 

Dwarf groaned to see, 
And tore his tangled hair and ground his long 

teeth angrily. 

But Deitrich said: "For five long years this ten- 
der Christian maid 

Has served you in your evil world, and well must 
she be paid! 


"Haste! — hither bring me precious gems, the 

richest in your store; 
Then when we pass the gate of glass, you'll take 

your cap once more." 

No choice was left the baffled Troll, and, murmur- 
ing, he obeyed, 

And filled the pockets of the youth and apron of 
the maid. 

They left the dreadful under-land and passed the 

gate of glass; 
They felt the sunshine's warm caress, they trod 

the soft, green grass. 

And when, beneath, they saw the Dwarf stretch 

up to them his brown 
And crooked claw-like fingers, they tossed his 

red cap down. 

Oh, never shone so bright a sun, was never sky 

so blue, 
As hand in hand they homeward walked the 

pleasant meadows through! 

And never sang the birds so sweet in Rambin's 

woods before, 
And never washed the waves so soft along the 

Baltic shore; 


And when beneath his door-yard trees the father 

met his child, 
The bells rung out their merriest peal, the folks 

with joy ran wild. 

And soon from Rambin's holy church the twain 

came forth as one, 
The Amptman kissed a daughter, the miller blest 

a son. 

John Deitrich's fame went far and wide, and 

nurse and maid crooned o'er 
Their cradle song: "Sleep on, sleep well, the 

Trolls shall come no more!" 

For in the haunted Nine Hills he set a cross of 

And Elf and Brown Dwarf sought in vain a door 

where door was none. 

The tower he built in Rambin, fair Riigen's pride 

and boast, 
Looked o'er the Baltic water to the Pomeranian 


And, for his worth ennobled, and rich beyond 

Count Deitrich and his lovely bride dwelt long 

and happy there. 

John Greenleaf Whittier 


And will you come away, my lad, 
And search for Fairy-Treasure? 

The pots of gold and diamond-heaps 
Lie buried without measure. 

And Little Men with wagging beards. 
Guard all with Elfin-spell. 

And you must catch a Little Man; 
Then he the Word will tell, 

The Magic Word that opes the hills, 
Uneartlis the Golden Crocks, 

Uncloses all the Treasure-Caves, 
And breaks the Fairy-Locks I 


From Ireland 

There was once a poor boy who used to drive his 
cart along the road, and sell turf to the neigh- 
bours. He was a strange boy, very silent, and 
spent his evenings in his little hut, where he lived 
alone, reading old bits of books he had picked up 
in his rambles. And as he read, he longed to be 
rich and live in a fine house with a garden all 
round him, and to have plenty of books. 

Now he once read how the Fairies' Shoemakers, 
the Leprechauns — merry, tricksy little sprites 
— sit at sunset under the hedges mending the 
shoes of Elfin Folk. And how they chuckle as 
they work, for they know where the pots of Fairy 
Gold are hidden. 

So, evening after evening, the boy watched 
the hedges hoping to catch a glimpse of a little 
cobbler, and to hear the click-clack of his tiny 

At last, one evening, just as the sun was set- 
ting, the boy saw a little Leprechaun sitting under 
a dock-leaf, and working away hard on a small 
boot. He was dressed in green and wore a red cap 
on his head. The boy jumped down from his cart, 


and catching the Leprechaun by the neck, cried 
merrily : — 

"Ho! Ho! My fine little man, you can't get 
away until you tell me where the Fairy Gold is 

"Easy now!" said the little man, laughing. 
"Don't hurt me, and I'll tell you all about it. I 
could harm you, if I wished, for I have the power; 
but I like you, and you are an industrious lad. So 
carry me to yonder fort, and I'll show you the 

Carrying the Leprechaun carefully, the boy 
took a few steps, and found himself close to the 
ruins of an old fort. A door opened in a stone wall, 
and he walked in. 

"Now look around," said the Leprechaun. 

Then the boy saw that the whole ground was 
covered with gold pieces, while pots full of gold and 
silver money stood about in such plenty that it 
seemed as if all the riches of the world were there. 

"Take what you want," said the Leprechaun, 
"and be quick about it; for if the door shuts you 
will never leave this place alive." 

The boy hurried, and gathered his arms full of 
gold and silver, and hastening out of the door, 
flung all into the cart. Then he brought out some 
of the pots; but when he was on his way back for 
more, the door shut with a clap like thunder, and 
night fell, and all was dark. 


The boy saw no more of the Leprechaun; and 
as he could not even thank him, he thought that 
it was best to drive home at once and hide his 

When he reached his hut, he counted all the 
bright yellow pieces and shining silver ones, and 
found that he was as rich as a king. And because 
he was wise, he told no one about his adventure, 
but the next day drove to town and put all his 
money in the bank. 

After that he ordered a fine house, and laid out 
a spacious garden, and had servants, and car- 
riages, and many books. Then he married the 
daughter of a magistrate, and became great and 
powerful. His memory is still held in reverence 
by his townspeople. His descendants are living 
rich and happy; and no matter how much they 
give to the poor, their wealth always increases. 


From Ireland 

Tom was as clean, clever, and tight looking a lad 
as any in the whole county Cork. One fine holi- 
day in harvest-time, he was taking a ramble and 
was sauntering along the sunny side of a hedge, 
when suddenly he heard a crackling sound among 
the leaves. 

"Dear me!" said he, "but is n't it really sur- 
prising to hear the stone-chats singing so late in 
the season!" 

And with that he stole along, going on the tips 
of his toes, to see if he could get sight of what was 
making the noise. He looked sharply under the 
bushes, and what should he see in a nook in the 
hedge but a big brown pitcher holding a gallon 
or more of dark looking liquor. And standing 
close to it was a little, diny, dony bit of an old 
man as big as your thumb, with a tiny cocked 
hat stuck on the top of his head, and a deesy, 
daushy, leather apron hanging down before him. 

The little old man pulled a little brown stool 
from under the hedge, and, standing upon it, 
dipped a little cup into the pitcher. Then he 
took the cup out, full of the brown liquor, and 
putting it on the ground, sat down on the stool 


under the shadow of the pitcher. He began to 
put a heel-piece on a bit of a boot just the size 
for himself. 

"Bless ray soul!" said Tom to himself, in great 
surprise, "I've often heard tell of the Lepre- 
chauns, but I never rightly believed in them! But 
here's one in real earnest! Now if I set about 
things right, I'm a made man! Folks say that a 
body must never take his eyes off them or they '11 
get away." 

So Tom stole nearer, with his eyes fixed on the 
little man, just as a cat does with a mouse. And 
when he got close up to him, he said softly : — 

"How goes your work, neighbour?" 

The little man raised his head. "Very well, 
thank you kindly," said he. 

"I'm surprised that you should be working on 
a holiday," said Tom. 

"That's my own business, not yours," said 
the little man. 

"Well, will you be civil enough to tell me what's 
in your pitcher?" said Tom. 

"That I will, with pleasure," said the little 
man. " 'T is Elfin beer." 

"Elfin beer!" said Tom. "Thunder and fire! 
Where did you get it?" 

"Why I made it — I made it of heath," said 
the little man. 

"Of heath!" said Tom bursting out laughing. 


"And will you give a body a taste of it?" asked 

"I'll tell you what it is, young man," said the 
Leprechaun, "it would be fitter for you to be 
looking after your cows that have broken into 
the oats yonder, than to stand here asking hon- 
est folks foolish questions!" 

Torn was so taken by surprise at this, that he 
was just going to turn his head to look for the 
cows, when he remembered not to take his eyes 
off the Leprechaun. Instead, he made a grab at 
the little man and caught him up in his hand; 
but, as bad luck would have it, he overturned the 
pitcher with his foot, and all the liquor was spilt. 

"You little rogue! " cried he, shaking the Lep- 
rechaun hard, and looking very wicked and angry. 
"Tell me where your gold is hidden, and show 
me all your money!" 

At that the little man was quite frightened. 
"Come along with me," said he, "and I'll show 
you a crock of gold in a field over there." 

So they went, Tom holding the Leprechaun 
very tightly, and never taking his eyes off him. 
They crossed hedges and ditches and a crooked 
bit of bog, until they came to a great field of rag- 
weed. Then the Leprechaun pointed to one of 
the weeds, and said: — 

"Dig under that, and you'll get a crock full of 


As Tom had no spade with him, he thought to 
himself: "I'll run home and fetch one. And so 
that I '11 know the place again, I '11 tie my garter 
around this weed." 

So he tied his red garter around the ragweed. 

"I suppose," said the Leprechaun politely, 
"that now you have no further use for me." 

"No," said Tom, "you may go, if you wish. 
And thank you very kindly," he said, laughing 
loudly, "for showing me where all your money 

"Well, good-bye to you, Tom," said the little 
man, "and much good may it do you, what you'll 
get," said he; and with that he jumped behind 
the weed, and vanished. 

So Tom ran home for dear life and fetched a 
spade, and then back as hard as he could go to 
the field. 

But when he got there, lo, and behold! not a 
ragweed in the whole field but had a red garter, 
just like his own, tied to it! And as for digging up 
that whole field, it was out of the question, for 
there were more than forty good Irish acres in it. 

So Tom went home again with his spade, a 
little cooler, and, you may be sure, ashamed to 
tell any one about the neat turn the Leprechaun 
had served him. 


From Ireland 

Now, it is well known that if a Leprechaun is 
offended he can be most malicious. So one must 
treat him politely, or he will not reveal where the 
pots of Fairy Gold are hidden. 

It happened one afternoon that a lad was work- 
ing in the fields when he heard at his feet, "Rip! 
Rap! Tick! Tack!" and looking down he saw a 
little fellow no bigger than his hand sitting under 
a burdock-leaf, mending shoes. He grabbed him 
up, and putting him in his pocket, ran home. 
There was no one in the house, so he tied the 
Leprechaun to the hob, saying: — 

"Tell me, you little rogue, where I may find a 
pot of gold." * 

"That I will not tell you," replied the Lepre- 
chaun, "unless you let me go, so that I may fin- 
ish cobbling the Elfin King's shoes." 

"I'll make you tell me now where the gold is!" 
said the lad. 

And with that he built a rousing fire under the 
Leprechaun to roast him. 

"Oh, take me off! Take me off!" yelled the 
little fellow, "and I'll tell you! Just go to the 


burdock-leaf under which I was sitting, and there 
is the pot of gold. Only go, dig, and find it, be- 
fore the sun sets." 

The lad was so delighted that, without stop- 
ping to untie the Leprechaun, he ran out of the 
house. It happened that his mother was just 
coming in with a pail of new milk. He hit the 
pail and spilt the milk on the floor, but he ran on 
laughing. And when His mother saw the Lepre- 
chaun struggling on the hob, she was furiously 

"See what bad luck you have brought us, you 
rogue!" she cried. And with that she untied the 
little fellow and kicked him out of the house. 

But the lad ran on until he came to the bur- 
dock-leaf; and he dug, and dug, and dug, but 
there w T as no pot of gold there, for the sun had 
set. So he started sorrowfully for home, and just 
as he was passing an old fort he heard laughter, 
and a squeaky voice crying out: — 

"That boy is looking for a pot of gold! ha! ha! 
But little does he know that a whole crock full 
is lying at the bottom of the old quarry. Only 
he must go to fetch it at midnight, and he must 
not take his mother with him." 

When the lad heard this he hurried home and 
told his mother. At midnight he started out, 
after ordering her to stay in the house. But as 
soon as he was gone she thought to herself: "I'll 


get to the quarry before he does, and find and 
keep the gold!" 

So she ran by a shorter way, and when she 
reached the edge of the quarry she slipped on a 
stone, fell to the bottom, and broke her leg. And 
there she lay groaning dreadfully. 

Soon the lad came along, and just as he was 
going to climb down he heard some one groan. 

"What's below?" he cried in a fright. "Is it 
evil? Is it good?" 

"It's your mother with a broken leg," groaned 

"And is this my pot of gold!" exclaimed the 
lad, angrily. 

And with that he ran for a neighbour, and to- 
gether they drew the woman up and took her 
home. And from that day on she was lame. 

As for the Leprechaun, he is still sitting under 
the burdock-leaf, and he laughs at the lad and his 
mother, as he mends his little shoes with his tiny 
hammer, Rip! Rap! Tick! Tack! — but they are 
afraid to touch him, for they know he can punish 
them badly. 


From Cornwall 

From the time that Tom was old enough to han- 
dle pick and shovel, he had worked in the tin 
mines. And very lucky he was, always finding 
rich lodes of tin, or stumbling on heaps of Cor- 
nish diamonds that some unknown hands had 
piled up to carry off. 

One night Tom was working hard in an old 
mine — a very ancient mine indeed — when he 
heard sounds like those of tiny shovels and 

"Tis the Knockers!" said Tom to himself, 
and he listened quietly. Then he heard, as if 
only two or three yards away, little miners do- 
ing all sorts of underground work. Some were 
wheeling barrows, others were shovelling; and he 
could distinguish even the sounds of boring, 
swabbing the holes, and blasting. 

The noises came nearer and nearer, and Tom 
heard distinctly many squeaky voices all talking 
at once, and strange cackling laughter. He grew 
quite savage listening to all this clatter, and to 
the squeaking and tee-hee-ing; and being a rash 
fellow, he struck the wall before him violently 
with his pick, and threw a handful of stones in 


the direction where the Knockers seemed to be 

"Scat!" he shouted, "or I'll beat your brains 
out, I will, if you don't leave here!" 

The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when 
a shower of stones fell all around him, and on 
him, and frightened him nearly out of his senses. 
Still he was resolved to work there until morning 
and so he kept on using his pick for about an 
hour. Then, as his candle was burned out, he 
stopped, lit another, and sat down to eat his 

He had almost finished his bread and cheese, 
when he heard many little squeaking voices, some 
far away, and others close to him, crying out: — 

"Tom! Tom! Leave us a bite of your break- 
fast, or bad luck to you, to-morrow, Tom!" 

At first he could not make out the words, only 
his own name, then the cries sounded very plain, 
and he was angry. "Leave the little rogues a bite 
of my good breakfast!" thought he, "not a crumb 
of it do they get!" And with that he ate the last 

Then he heard the little voices squeaking 
louder than before: — 

"Tom! Tom! We'll send you bad luck to- 
morrow, Tom! you greedy creature not to leave 
a single crumb for the Knockers!" 

And they kept on squeaking, and tee-heeing 


in a mocking way; but getting farther and farther 
in the distance until they were quite gone. 

Then Tom felt tired and drowsy, and lay down 
on the floor to sleep awhile. 

When he waked, the place was very still. He 
rubbed his eyes, and saw a score of Knockers 
leaning on their tools, and standing in a circle 
around him. They were little, withered old men, 
with legs like drum-sticks, and arms longer and 
thinner than their legs. They kept nodding their 
great ugly heads, squinting their horrid eyes, 
wriggling their hooked noses, and grinning from 
ear to ear. 

Tom lay there trembling and frightened al- 
most to death. Then the oldest and ugliest of 
the Knockers came close to him, and stooping, 
made the most horrid grimaces in Tom's face; 
while all the others lolled out their tongues, and 
rolled themselves into balls, and grinned at him 
from between their spindle-legs. 

Then Tom saw that his candle was sputtering 
and just going out, and he sprang to his feet to 
light another. As he did so, all the little men 
vanished. They seemed to melt away one into 
the other like puffs of smoke. 

Feeling very stiff and tired, Tom mounted the 
ladders, and left the mine. When he told the old 
tinners what he had seen, they were not sur- 
prised, for it was well known among them that 


the mine Tom had been working in was the abode 
of troops of Knockers. But the tinners, one and 
all, blamed Tom for speaking to the little men 
in an unfriendly way, and for not leaving them 
a bite of his breakfast. 

From that time on, all Tom's luck was gone. 
The mines closed down, and his money went, 
and he was hurt by a fall. And though he tried 
hard to find the Knockers again, so that he 
might feed them well, he never saw one, nor even 
heard the sounds of their picks and shovels in 
the mine. 


From Cornwall 


One night I was working away for dear life, in 
yonder old tin mine. I was in good heart, be- 
cause at every stroke of my tool I heard three or 
four clicks from Knockers who were working 
ahead. By the sounds they seemed to be very 

Just then a hard stroke of my pick broke open 
the rock in front of me, and I saw into a large 
grotto. The light of my candle fell on its walls, 
and my eyes were dazzled by the glistening of 
bunches of diamonds and crystals of all colours 
that hung down from the roof, and encrusted 
the sides. 

While I was rubbing my eyes, I saw three little 
Knockers. They were no bigger than sixpenny 
dolls, yet their faces were old and strange. The 
eldest one was sitting on a stone, his jacket off, 
and his shirt-sleeves rolled up. Between his 
knees he held a tiny anvil, and he was sharpening 
a borer about the size of a needle, for one of the 
Knockers. The third little fellow was awaiting 
his turn, pick-axe in hand. 


When the Knocker-smith had finished sharp- 
ening the borer, he rested his hammer on the 
anvil, and looked toward me. 

"What cheer, comrade?" he said. "I could not 
think from where the cold wind was coming. The 
draught from your hole has blown out my light." 

"Oh! Good-morning! Is that you? How are 
you?" said I. "And how is the rest of your fam- 
ily? I am glad to see you. I'll fetch you my 
candle in a minute, that you may see better. In 
fact, I'll give you a pound of candles, my dear, 
with all my heart, if you want them," said I. 

In less than no time I put my hand through the 
hole to give him my candle, when, what do you 
think? — there was n't a Knocker in sight! 

"Where are they gone?" thought I. Then I 
heard them somewhere in the lode ahead, tee- 
heeing, and cackling, and squeaking like young 

And there I was left in their pretty workshop, 
with bunches of diamonds all around me. I laid 
my coat on the floor, and filled it with diamonds 
and coloured crystals, and then hurried out of 
the mine. But when I went back to get some 
more, the rocks had caved in, and I never could 
find the grotto again. 


From Cornwall 

Every one knows that before King Arthur ruled 
in Britain, the Danes conquered Cornwall. Then 
many of the rich Cornish folk buried their gold 
and treasures, and fled to the land of Wales. A 
few years after that King Arthur came with his 
knights, and drove the Danes out of Cornwall. 
Then the folk came back, but never again could 
they find their buried treasures. And to-day 
none but the Spriggans know where the gold is 

Well, one morning not very long ago Uncle 
Billy of Trevidga was out on the side of a hill, 
cutting away the furze that was as high as his 
head, with bare places here and there covered 
with white clover, heath, and whortleberries. 
Uncle Billy was working hard, when he spied the 
prettiest little creature, a real little man, not 
bigger than a kitten, sleeping on a bank of wild 
thyme. He was dressed in a green coat, sky-blue 
breeches, and diamond-buckled shoes. His tiny 
cocked hat was drawn over his face, to shade it 
from the sun. . 

Uncle Billy stooped and looked at him, and 
longed to carry him home to his children, for he 


had a houseful of little ones, boys and girls. So 
he took off his cuff, and slipped it quickly over 
the Spriggan — for a Spriggan it was that lay 
there — before he could wake. 

The little fellow opened his pretty eyes, and 
said in a sleepy voice: "Mammy! Where are 
you? Mammy! Daddy!" Then he saw Uncle 
Billy looking at him. "Who are you?" he 
said. "You're a fine, great giant! I want my 
Mammy! Can you find her for me?" 

"I do not know where she is," answered Uncle 
Billy. "But come home with me, and play with 
my children, until your Mammy finds you." 

"Very well," said the Spriggan. "I love to 
ride goats over the rocks, and to have milk and 
blackberries for supper. Will you give me some? " 

"Yes, my son," said Uncle Billy; and with 
that he picked up the Spriggan gently, and car- 
ried him home. 

Well, you should have seen the children! They 
were so happy to own a Spriggan! They set the 
little fellow on the hearth, and he played with 
them as if he had known them always. Uncle 
Billy and his wife were delighted, and the chil- 
dren shouted for joy, when the pretty little man 
capered and jumped about. They called him 
Bobby Spriggan. Twice a day they gave him a 
wee mug of milk and a few blackberries, and now 
and then some haws for a change. 


In the mornings, while Uncle Billy's wife and 
the children were doing the housework, Bobby 
Spriggan sat perched on the faggots in the wood- 
corner, and sang and chirped away like a Robin 

When the hearth was swept, and the kitchen 
made tidy, and Uncle Billy's wife was knitting, 
Bobby would dance for hours on the hearth- 
stone. The faster her needles clicked, the faster 
he danced and spun around and around. And 
the children laughed and clapped their hands, 
and danced with him. 

A week or so after Bobby Spriggan had been 
found, Uncle Billy had to leave home. As he 
wished to keep the little fellow safe and sound 
until he told where the crocks of Cornish gold 
were hidden, Uncle Billy shut him up with the 
youngest children in the barn, and put a strong 
padlock on the door. 

"Now stay in the barn and play," called Uncle 
Billy to the children. "And don't try to get out, 
or when I come home you'll get a walloping," 
said he, and then went away. 

The children laughed a part of the time, and a 
part of the time they cried, for they did not like 
to be locked in the barn. But Bobby Spriggan 
was as merry as a cricket. He danced and sang, 
and peeped through the cracks in the wall at the 
men who were working in the fields. And when 


the men went to dinner, up jumped Bobby and 
unbarred a window. 

"Come along, children!" he cried. "Now for 
a game of hide-and-seek in the furze!" 

Then he sprang out the window, and the chil- 
dren followed after. And away they all ran to 
play in the furze. 

They were shouting and throwing whortle- 
berries about, when suddenly they saw a little 
man and woman no bigger than Bobby. The 
little man was dressed like Bobby, except that 
he wore high riding-boots with silver spurs. The 
little woman's green gown was spangled with 
glittering stars. Diamond shoe-buckles shone on 
her high-heeled shoes, and her tiny steeple- 
crowned hat was perched on a pile of golden 
curls, wreathed with heath blossoms. The pretty 
little soul was weeping and wringing her hands, 
and crying : — 

"O my dear, tender Skilly widden! Where 
canst thou be! Shall I never set eyes on thee 
again, my only one, my only joy?" 

"Go back! Go back!" cried Bobby Spriggan 
to the children. Then he called out: "Here I am, 

And just as he said, "Here I am," the little man 
and the little woman, and Bobby Spriggan him- 
self, who was their precious Skillywidden, van- 
ished, and were seen no more. 


The children cried and cried, and went home. 
And when Uncle Billy came back you may be 
sure that he whipped them all soundly. And it 
served them right, for if they had minded and 
stayed in the barn, Bobby Spriggan would have 
shown Uncle Billy where the Cornish gold was 


Little Cowboy, what have you heard, 
Up on the lonely rath's green mound? 

Little Cowboy 
Only the plaintive yellowbird 
Sighing in sultry fields around, 
"Chary, chary, chary, chee-ee! — " 
Only the grasshopper and the bee. 

Fairy Shoemaker {singing underground) 

Tip-tap, rip-rap, 

Scarlet leather, sewn together, 

This will make a shoe. ( 
Left, right, pull it tight; 

Summer days are w r arm; 
Underground in Winter, 

Laughing at the storm! 

Lay your ear close to the hill. 
Do you not catch the tiny clamour, 
Busy click of an Elfin hammer, 
Voice of the Leprechaun singing shrill 


As he merrily plies his trade? 
He 's a span 

And a quarter in height. 
Get him in sight, hold him tight, 
And you 're a made 
You watch your cattle the Summer day, 
Sup on potatoes, sleep in the hay; 

How would you like to roll in your car- 
Look for a Duchess's daughter in mar- 
Seize the Shoemaker — then you may! 

Fairy Shoemaker (singing underground) 

Big boots a-hunting, 

Sandals in the hall, 
White for a wedding-feast, 

Pink for a ball. 
This way, that way, 

So we make a shoe; 
Getting rich every stitch, 



Nine-and -ninety treasure-crocks 
This keen Miser-Fairy hath, 
Hid in mountains, woods, and rocks, 
Ruin and round-tow'r, cave and rath, 


And where the cormorants build; 
From times of old 
Guarded by him; 
Each of them filled 
Full to the brim 
With gold! 
I caught him at work one day, myself, 
In the castle-ditch, where Foxglove 
grows, — 
A wrinkled, wizened, and bearded Elf, 
Spectacles stuck on his pointed nose, 
Silver buckles to his hose, 
Leather apron — shoe in his lap — 

Fairy Shoemaker (singing underground) 

Rip-rap, tip-tap, 

Tick-a-tack-too ! 
(A grasshopper on my cap! 

Away the moth flew!) 
Buskins for a Fairy Prince, 

Brogues for his son, — 
Pay me well, pay me well, 

When the job is done! 


The rogue w T as mine, beyond a doubt. 
I stared at him; he stared at me; 
*' Servant, sir!" "Humph!" says he, 
And pulled a snuff-box out. 


He took a long pinch, looked better pleased, 

The queer little Leprechaun; 
Offered the box with a whimsical grace, — 
Pouf ! he flung the dust in my face, 
And, while I sneezed, 
Was gone! 

William Allingham 


Saint Francis and Saint Benedict, 
Bless this house from wicked wighi; 
From the Night-mare and the Goblin 
That is hight Good-Fellow Robin; 
Keep it from all evil spirits, 
Fairies, weasels, rats, and ferrets, 

From curfew-time 

To the next prime. 

William Carttvright (1C35?) 


From Ireland 

Sure and it was in old Ireland, some years ago, 
that Tom Coghlan returned one evening to his 
house, expecting to find the fire blazing, the 
potatoes boiling, and his wife and children as 
merry as grigs. But, instead, the fire was out, 
his wife was scolding, and the children were all 
crying from hunger. 

Poor Tom was quite astonished to find mat- 
ters going on so badly, for, though there was a 
plenty of potatoes in the house, there was n't a 
single stick of wood for the fire. Something had 
to be done. And Tom bethought himself of the 
great furze-bushes that grew around the ruins 
of the old fort on top of the near-by hill. So he 
snatched up his axe and away he went. 

Before he reached the top of the hill the sun 
had gone down, and the moon had risen and was 
shedding her wavering, watery light on the ruins 
of the old fort. The breeze rustled the dark 
furze-bushes with an eerie sound, and Tom shiv- 
ered with dread. But he braced up his heart, and, 
approaching the fort, raised his axe to cut down 
a big bush. Just then, near him, he heard the 
shriek of a small, shrill voice. 


Tom, startled, let the axe fall from his grasp, 
and, looking up, saw perched on the furze-bush 
in front of him a little old man, not more than a 
foot and a half high. He wore a red cap. His 
face was the colour of a withered mushroom, 
while his sparkling eyes, twinkling like diamonds 
in the dark, illuminated his distorted face. His 
thin legs dangled from his fat, round body. 

"Ho! Ho!" said the Little Redcap, "is that 
what you're after, Tom Coghlan? What did me 
and mine ever do to you that you should cut 
down our bushes?" 

"Why, then, nothing at all, your honour!" 
said Tom, recovering a bit from his fright, "noth- 
ing at all! Only the children were crying from 
hunger, and I thought I'd make bold to cut a 
bush or two to boil the potatoes, for we have n't 
a stick in the house." 

"You must n't cut down these bushes, Tom!" 
said the Little Redcap. "But, as you are an 
honest man, I'll buy them from you, though I 
have a better right to them than you have. So, 
if you'll take my advice, carry this mill home 
with you, and let the bushes alone," said the 
Little Redcap, holding out a tiny stone mill for 
grinding meal. 

"Mill, indeed!" said Tom, looking with aston- 
ishment at the thing, which was so small that he 
could have put it with ease into his breeches 


pocket. "Mill, indeed! And what good will a 
bit of a thing like that do me? Sure, it won't 
boil the potatoes for the children ! " 

"What good will it do you?" said the Little 
Redcap. "I'll tell you what good it will do you! 
It will make you and your family as fat and 
strong as so many stall-fed bullocks. And if it 
won't boil the potatoes, it will do a great deal 
better, for you have only to grind it, and it will 
give you the greatest plenty of elegant meal. 
But if you ever sell any of the meal, that mo- 
ment the mill will lose its power." 

"It's a bargain," said Tom. "So give me the 
mill, and you're heartily welcome to the bushes." 

"There it is for you, Tom," said the Little 
Redcap, throwing the mill down to him; "there 
it is for you, and much good may it do you! 
But remember you are not to sell the meal on 
any account." 

"Let me alone for that!" said Tom. 

And then he made the best of his way home, 
where his wife was trying to comfort the children, 
wondering all the time what in the world was 
keeping Tom. And when she saw him return 
without so much as one stick of wood to boil the 
potatoes, her anger burst out. But Tom soon 
quieted her by placing the mill on the table and 
telling her how he had got it from the Little 


"We'll try it directly," said she. And they 
pulled the table into the middle of the floor, and 
commenced grinding away with the mill. Before 
long a stream of beautiful meal began pouring 
from it; and in a short time they had filled every 
dish and pail in the house. Tom's wife was de- 
lighted, as you may believe, and the children 
managed the best they could for that night by 
eating plenty of raw meal. 

Well, after that everything went very well with 
Tom and his family. The mill gave them all the 
meal they wanted, and they grew as fat and sleek 
as coach-horses. But one morning when Tom was 
away from home, his wife needed money. So 
she took a few pecks of the meal to town and sold 
it in the market. 

And sorry enough she was, for that night, when 
Tom came home and began to grind the mill, 
not a speck of meal would come from it! He 
could not for the life of him find out the reason, 
for his wife was afraid to tell him about her 
selling the meal. 

"Sure, and the little old fellow cheated me 
well!" thought Tom, as mad as a nest of hornets. 
So he put his axe under his arm, and away he 
went to the old fort, determined to punish the 
Little Redcap by cutting down his bushes. But 
scarcely had he lifted his axe, when the Little Red- 
cap appeared, and mighty angry he was, too, 


that Tom should come cutting his bushes, after 
having made a fair bargain with him. 

"You deceitful, little, ugly vagabond!" cried 
Tom, flourishing his axe, "to give me a mill 
that was n't worth a sixpence! If you don't 
give me a good one for it, I'll cut down every 

"What a blusterer you are, Tom!" said the 
Little Redcap, "but you'd better be easy and 
let the bushes alone, or maybe you'll pay for it! 
Deceive you, indeed! Did n't I tell you that 
mill would lose its power if you sold any of the 

"And sure and I did n't, either," said Tom. 

"Well, it 's all one for that," answered the Little 
Redcap, "for if you did n't, your wife did. And 
as to giving you another mill, it 's out of the ques- 
tion. For the one I gave you was the only one 
in the fort. And a hard battle we had to get it 
away from another party of the Good People! 
But I'll tell you what I'll do with you, Tom; 
let the bushes alone, and I'll make a doctor of 

"A doctor, indeed!" said Tom. "Maybe it's 
a fool you're making of me!" 

But it was no such thing, for the Little Red- 
cap gave Tom Coghlan a charm so that he could 
cure any sick person. And Tom took it home, 
and became a great man with a very full purse. 


He gave good schooling to his children. One of 
them he made a grand butter-merchant in the 
city of Cork, and the youngest son — being ever 
and always a well-spoken lad — he made a law- 
yer; and his two daughters married well. 
And Tom is as happy as a man can be! 


From Ireland 

It is well known in old Ireland that a Four-leaved 
Shamrock has the power to open a man's eyes 
so that he can see all kinds of enchantments, and 
this is what happened to Billy Thompson: — 

One misfortune after another decreased his 
goods. His sheep died; and his pig got the mea- 
sles, so that he was obliged to sell it for little or 
nothing. But still he had his cow. 

"Well," said Billy to his wife, for he was a 
good-humoured fellow, and always made the best 
of tilings, — "Well !" said he, "it can't be helped! 
Anyhow, we'll not want the drop of milk to our 
potatoes, as long as the cow's left to comfort 

The words were hardly out of his mouth when 
a neighbour came running up to tell him that his 
cow had fallen from a cliff, and was lying dead 
in the Horses' Glen. For Billy, you must know, 
had sent his cow that very morning to graze on 
the cliff. 

"Och! Ullagone!" cried Billy. "What '11 we 
do now! Oeh! you cruel, unnatural beast as to 
clift yourself, when you knowed as well as my- 
self that we could n't do without you at all! For 


sure enough now the children will be crying for 
the drop of milk to their potatoes!" 

Such was Billy's lament, as with a sorrowful 
heart he made the best of his way to the Horses' 
Glen. " Anyway/' thought he, "I'll skin the car- 
cass, and the meat will make fine broth for the 

It took him some time to find where the poor 
beast was lying, but at last he did find her, all 
smashed to pieces at the foot of a big rock. And 
he began to skin her as fast as he could, but hav- 
ing no one to help him, by the time the job was 
finished, the sun had gone down. 

Now Billy was so intent on his work that he 
did not perceive the lapse of time, but when he 
raised his head and saw the darkness coming on, 
and listened to the murmuring wind, all the tales 
he had ever heard of the Pooka, the Banshee, 
and Little Redcap, the mischievous Fairy, 
floated through his mind, and made him want to 
get home as fast as possible. He snatched a tuft 
of grass, wiped his knife, and seized hold of the 

It so happened that in the little tuft of grass 
with which Billy wiped his knife was a Four- 
leaved Shamrock. And whether from grief or 
fear, Billy, instead of throwing away the grass, 
put it in his pocket along with his knife. And 
when he stood up and turned to take a last look 


at the carcass he saw, instead of his poor cow, a 
little old Curmudgeon sitting bolt upright, look- 
ing as if he had just been skinned alive! 

"Billy Thompson! Billy Thompson," cried 
the little old fellow in a shrill, squeaking voice. 
"You spalpeen! You'd better come back with 
my skin! A pretty time of day we've come to, 
when a gentleman like me cannot take a bit of 
sleep but a rude fellow must come and strip the 
hide off him! But you'd better bring it back, 
Billy Thompson, or I'll make you remember 
how you dared to skin me, you spalpeen!" 

Now Billy, though he was greatly frightened, 
remembered that he had a black-handled knife 
in his pocket, and whoever has that, 't is said, 
can look all the Fairies of the world in the face 
without quaking. So he put his hand on the knife, 
and began backing away, with the skin under his 

"Why, then, your honour," said he, "if it's 
this skin you're wanting, you must know it's 
the skin of my poor cow that was clifted yonder 
there. And sore and sorrowful the children will 
be for the want of her little drop of milk!" 

"Why, then, if that's what you'd be after, 
Billy, my boy," said the little fellow, at the same 
time jumping before him with the speed of a 
greyhound, "do you think I'm such a fool 
as to let you walk off with my skin? If you 


don't drop it in the turn of a hand, you'll sup 

"Nonsense!" said Billy, drawing out his black- 
handled knife, and holding it so the little man 
could see it. " Never a one of me will let you 
have this skin till you give me back my cow. I 
know well enough she was not clifted at all, at 
all, and that you and the other Curmudgeons 
have got hold of her!" 

"You'd better keep a civil tongue in your 
head," said the little fellow, who seemed to get 
quite soft at the sight of the knife. "But you're 
a brave boy, Billy Thompson, and I've taken a 
fancy to you! I don't say but I might get you 
your cow again, if you'll give me back my skin." 

"Thank you kindly," said Billy, winking slyly. 
"Give me the cow first; then I will." 

"Well, there she is for you, you unbelieving 
hound!" said the little Curmudgeon. 

And for sure and for certain, what did Billy 
Thompson hear but his own cow bellowing behind 
him for the bare life! And when he looked back 
what should he see but his cow running over rocks 
and stones with a long rope hanging to one of her 
legs, and four little fellows, with red caps on them, 
hunting her as fast as they could! 

"There'll be a battle for her, Billy! There 'II 
be a battle!" laughed the little Curmudgeon. 

And sure enough, the little Redcaps began to 


fight, and in the meantime the cow, finding her- 
self at liberty, ran towards Billy, who lost not a 
minute, but, throwing the skin on the ground, 
seized the cow by the tail and began to drive 
her away. 

"Not so fast, Billy!" said the little Curmudg- 
eon, who stuck close by his side; "not so fast! 
Though I gave you the cow, I did n't give you 
the rope that's hanging to her leg." 

"A bargain's a bargain," said Billy, "so as 
I've got it, I'll keep rope and all." 

"If you say that again," said the little fellow, 
"I'll be after calling the Redcaps that are fight- 
ing below there. But I don't want to be too hard 
on you, Billy, for if you have a mind for the rope, 
I'll give it to you for the little tuft of grass you 
have in your pocket." 

"There, take it," said Billy, throwing down 
the grass with the Four-leaved Shamrock in it. 

No sooner was it out of his hand than he re- 
ceived such a blow that it dashed him to the 
ground, insensible. When he came to himself, 
the sun was shining, and where should he be but 
near his own house with the cow grazing beside 
him? Billy Thompson could hardly believe his 
eyes, and thought it was all a dream, till he saw 
the rope hanging to his cow's leg. 

And that was a lucky rope for him ! For, from 
that day out, his cow gave more milk than any 


six cows in the parish, and Billy began to look 
up in the world. He took farms, and purchased 
cattle till he became very rich. But no one could 
ever get him to go to the Horses' Glen. And to- 
day he never passes an old fort, or hears a blast 
of wind, without taking off his hat in compliment 
to the Good People; and 't is only right that he 


From Ireland 

Late one Hallowe'en an old woman was sitting 
up spinning. There came a soft knock at the 

"Who's there?" asked she. 

There was no answer, but another knock. 

"Who's there?" she asked a second time. 

Still no answer, but a third knock. At that the 
old woman got up in anger. 

"Who's there?" she cried. 

A small voice, like a child's, sobbed: "Ah, 
Judy dear, let me in! I am so cold and hungry! 
Open the door, Judy dear, and let me sit by the 
fire and dry myself! Judy dear, let me in! Oh — 
let — me — in!" 

Judy, thinking that it must be a small child 
who had lost its way, ran to the door, and opened 
it. In walked a large Black Cat waving her tail, 
and two black kittens followed her. They walked 
deliberately across the floor, and sat down before 
the fire, and began to warm themselves and lick 
their fur, purring all the time. Judy never said 
a word, but closed the door, and went back to 
her spinning. 

At last the Black Cat spoke. 


"Judy dear," said she, "do not sit up so late. 
This is the Fairies' holiday, and they wish to 
hold a counsel in your kitchen, and eat their sup- 
per here. They are very angry because you are 
still up, and they cannot come in. Indeed, Judy, 
they are determined to kill you. Only for myself 
and my two daughters, you would now be dead. 
So take my advice and do not interfere with the 
Fairies' Hallowe'en. But give me some milk, for 
I must be off." 

Well, Judy got up in a great fright and ran as 
fast as she could, and brought three saucers full 
of milk, and set them on the floor before the eats. 
They lapped up all the milk, then the Black Cat 
called her daughters and stood up. 

"Thank you, Judy dear," she said. "You 
have been very civil to me, and I'll not forget. 
Good night ! Good night ! " 

And with that she and her kittens whisked up 
the chimney, and were gone. 

Then Judy saw something shining on the 
hearth. She picked it up; it was a piece of silver 
money, more than she could earn in a month. 
She put out the light, and went to bed; and never 
again did she sit up late on Hallowe'en and inter- 
fere with Fairy hours. 


From Yorkshire 

Once upon a time a Boggart lived in a farmer's 
house. He was a mischievous Elf, and specially 
fond of teasing the children. When they were 
eating their supper, he would make himself in- 
visible, and, standing back of their chairs, would 
snatch away their bread and butter and drain their 
mugs of milk. On cold nights he would pull the 
clothes from their warm beds and tickle their feet. 

And the children liked to tease the Boggart 
in return. There was a closet in the kitchen 
with a large knot-hole in its wall behind which 
the Boggart lived. The children used to stick a 
shoehorn into the hole; and the Boggart would 
throw it back at them. The shoehorn made the 
little man so angry that one day he threw it at 
the youngest boy's head and hurt him badly. 

At length the Boggart became such a torment 
that the farmer and his wife decided to move to 
another place and let the mischievous creature 
have their house to himself. 

The day of the moving came. All the furniture 
was piled into a wagon, and a neighbour called to 
say good-bye. "So, farmer," said he, "you are 
leaving the old house at last!" 


"Heigh-ho!" sighed the farmer, "I am forced 
to do it. That villain Boggart torments us so 
that we have no rest night or day! He almost 
killed my youngest boy. So you see we are forced 
to flit." 

Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when 
a squeaky voice cried from the bottom of the 
churn, that was in the wagon : — 

"Aye! Aye! We're flitting, you see!" 

"Ods! Hang it!" cried the poor farmer. 
"There is that villain Boggart again! If he's 
going along with us, I shall not stir a peg. Nay ! 
Nay! It's no use, Molly," said he turning to his 
wife. "We may as well stay here in the old house 
as to be tormented in the new one that is not so 

And they stayed. 


From Northumberland 

Once upon a time there was a widow and her 
little boy. Their home was a small cottage in 
the wood. The mother worked hard from early 
morning until evening, and she was so tired that 
she liked to go to bed early. But the little boy 
did not like to go to bed early at all. 

One evening when his mother told him to un- 
dress, he begged her, saying: "I'm not sleepy. 
May I sit up just this once?" 

"Very well," said she. "Sit up if you wish, 
but if the Fairies catch you here alone, they will 
surely carry you off." Then she went to bed. 

The little boy laughed, and sat down on the 
hearth before the fire, watching the blaze and 
warming his hands. 

By and by he heard a giggling and a laughing 
in the chimney, and the next minute he saw a 
tiny girl, as big as a doll, come tumbling down 
and jump on to the hearth in front of him. 

At first the little boy was dreadfully fright- 
ened, but the tiny girl began to dance so prettily, 
and to nod her head at him in such a friendly 
way, that he forgot to be afraid. 

"What do they call you, little girl?" said he. 


"My name is Ownself," said she proudly. 
"What is yours?" : 

"My name," he answered, laughing very hard, 
"is My Ownself." 

Then the two children began to play together 
as if they had known each other all their lives. 
They danced, and they sang, and they roasted 
chestnuts before the fire, and they tickled the 
house-cat's ears. Then the fire commenced to 
flicker, and it grew dimmer and dimmer; so the 
little boy took the poker and stirred up the em- 
bers. And a hot coal tumbled out and rolled on to 
Ownself 's tiny foot. And, oh! how she screamed! 
Then she wept, and flew into such a rage that the 
little boy got frightened and hid behind the door. 

Just then a squeaky voice called down the 
chimney: "Ownself! Ownself! What wicked 
creature hurt you?" 

"My Ownself! My Ownself!" she screamed 

"Then come here, you troublesome little 
Fairy," cried the voice angrily. 

And a Fairy mother, slipper in hand, came 
hurrying down the chimney; and catching Own- 
self, she whipped her soundly and carried her 
off, saying: — 

"What's all this noise about, then? If you did 
it your ownself, there's nobody to blame but 


From China 

Wang Little-Third-One lay stretched on his 
bed of bamboo laths, where a low fever kept him. 
He complained to every one, especially to his 
friend the Magician who came to see him. 

The Magieian was very wise, so he gave Wang 
a drink of something delicious and cool, and went 

When Little-Third-One had drunk this, his 
fever fell, and he was able to enjoy a little sleep. 
He was awakened by a slight noise. The night was 
come. The room was lighted by the full moon, 
which threw a bright gleam through the open door. 

Then he saw that the room was full of insects 
that were moving and flying hither and thither. 
There were white ants that gnaw wood, bad- 
smelling bugs, enormous cockroaches, mosqui- 
toes, and many many flies. And they were all 
buzzing, gnashing their teeth, or falling. 

As Little-Third-One looked, he saw something 
move on the threshold. A small man, not bigger than 
a thumb, advanced with cautious steps. In his hand 
he held a bow; a sword was hanging by his side. 

Little-Third-One, looking closer, saw two dogs 
as big as shirt-buttons, running in front of the 


little man. They suddenly stopped. The archer 
approached nearer to the bed, and held out his 
bow, and discharged a tiny arrow. A cockroach 
that was crawling before the dogs, made a bound, 
fell on its back, kicked, and was motionless. The 
arrow had run through it. 

Behind the little man, other little men had 
come. Some rode on small horses, and were armed 
with swords, and still others were on foot. All 
these huntsmen scattered about the room, and 
ran or rode, to and fro, shooting arrows, and 
brandishing their swords; until hundreds and 
hundreds of insects were killed. At first the 
mosquitoes escaped, but, as they cannot fly for 
long, every time one of them settled on the wall, 
it was transfixed by a huntsman. 

Soon none were left of all the insects that had 
broken the silence with their buzzing, their gnash- 
ing of teeth, and their falling. 

A horseman then galloped around the room, 
looking from right to left. He gave a signal. All 
the huntsmen called their dogs, went to the door, 
and disappeared. 

f > Little-Third-One had not moved, for fear that 
he should disturb the hunt. At last he went 
peacefully to sleep, and woke the next day cured. 
When his friend the Magician came to see him, 
Little-Third-One told him about the mysterious 
huntsmen, and his friend the Magician smiled. 


From Cornwall 

'T is Hallowe'en Night, Teddy, my boy. Don't 
go out on the moor, or near the Gump, for the 
Piskeys and the Spriggans are abroad, waiting 
to mislead straying mortals. Many are the men 
and women that the Little People have whisked 
away on Hallowe'en Night; and the poor mortals 
have never been heard of since. 

Sit down, Teddy, my boy, crack these nuts, 
and eat these red apples; and I'll tell you how 
Peeping Kate was Piskey-led. 

I have heard the old folks say how long ago — 
maybe a hundred years or so — the Squire of 
Pendeen had a housekeeper, an elderly dame, 
called Kate Tregeer. 

Well, one Hallowe'en Night, some spices and 
other small things were wanted for the feasten- 
tide, and Kate .would not trust any one to go for 
them except herself. So she put on her red coat 
and high steeple-crowned hat, and walked to 
Penzance. She bought the goods and started for 

It was a bright moonlight night, and though 
no wind was blowing, the leaves of the trees were 


murmuring with a hollow sound. And Kate could 
hear strange rustlings in the bushes by the side 
of the road. 

She had walked a very long time, and her bas- 
ket was so heavy that she began to feel tired. 
Her legs bent under her and she could scarcely ' 
stand up. Just then she beheld, a little in front 
of her, a man on horseback. And she could tell by 
the proud way he sat that he w r as a gentleman- 

She was very glad to see him, and as he was 
going slowly, she soon overtook him; and when 
she came up, his horse stood stock-still. 

"My dear Master," she said, "how glad I am 
to see you. Don't you know me? I'm Kate Tre- 
geer of Pendeen; and I can't tell you how hard 
I've worked all day." 

Then she explained to him how she had walked 
to Penzance, and was now so tired that she could 
not stand up. But the gentleman made no reply. 

"My dear Master," said she, "I'm footsore 
and leg- weary. I've got as far as here, you see, 
but I can get no farther. Do have pity on a poor 
unfortunate woman, and take her behind you. 
I can ride well enough on your horse's back with- 
out a saddle or pillion." 

But still the gentleman made no reply. 

"My dear Master," she said again, "My! but 
you're a fine-looking man! How upright you sit" 


on your horse! But why don't you answer me? 
Are you asleep? One would think you were taking 
a nap; and your horse, too, it is standing so still ! " 

Not having any word in reply to this fine 
speech, Kate called out as loud as she could: 
"Even if you are a gentleman-born, you need n't 
be so stuck-up that you won't speak to a poor 
body afoot!" 

Still he never spoke, though Kate thought that 
she saw him wink at her. 

This vexed her the more. "The time was when 
the Tregeers were among the first in the parish, 
and were buried with the gentry! Wake up and 
speak to me!" screamed she in a rage. And then 
she took up a stone, and threw it at the horse. 
The stone rolled back to her feet, and the animal 
did not even whisk its tail. 

Kate now got nearer, and saw that the rider 
had no hat on, nor was there any hair on his bald 
head. She touched the horse, and felt nothing 
but a bunch of furze. She rubbed her eyes and 
saw at once, to her great astonishment, that it 
was no gentleman and horse at all, only a smooth 
stone half buried in a heap of furze. And there 
she was still far away from Pendeen, with her 
heavy basket, and her legs so tired that she 
could scarcely move. And then she saw that she 
had come a short distance only, and knew that 
she must be bewitched. 


Well, on she went; and seeing a light at her 
left hand she thought that it shone from the win- 
dow of a house where she might rest awhile. So 
she made for it straight across the moor, floun- 
dering through bogs, and tripping over bunches 
of furze. And still the light was always just 
ahead, and it seemed to move from side to side. 
Then suddenly it went out, and she was left 
standing in a bog. The next minute she found 
herself among furze-ricks and pigsties, in the 
yard of Farmer Boslow, miles away from Pen- 

She opened the door of an old outhouse, and 
entered, hoping to get a few hours' rest. There 
she lay down on straw and fell asleep; but she 
was soon wakened by some young pigs who were 
rooting around in the straw. That was too much 
for Kate. So up she got, and as she did so she 
heard the noise of a flail. And seeing a glimmer 
of light in a barn near by, she crept softly to a 
little window in the barn, and peeped to find what 
was going on. 

At first she could see only two rush-wicks burn- 
ing in two old iron lamps. Then through the dim 
light she saw the slash-flash of a flail as it rose 
and fell, and beat the barn floor. She stood on 
tiptoes, and stuck her head in farther, and whom 
did she see, wielding the flail, but a little old 
man, about three feet high, with hair like a bunch 


of rushes, and ragged clothes. His face was 
broader than it was long, and he had great owl- 
eyes shaded by heavy eyebrows from which his 
nose poked like a pig's snout. Kate noticed that 
his teeth were crooked and jagged, and that at 
each stroke of the flail, he kept moving his thin 
lips around and around, and thrusting his tongue 
in and out. His shoulders were broad enough 
for a man twice his height, and his feet were 
splayed like a frog's. 

"Well! Well!" thought Kate. "This is luck! 
To see the Piskey threshing! For ever since I 
can remember I have heard it said that the Pis- 
key threshed corn for Farmer Boslow on winter 
nights, and did other odd jobs for him the year 
round. But I would not believe it. Yet here he 

Then she reached her head farther in, and be- 
held a score of little men helping the Piskey. 
Some of them were lugging down the sheaves, 
and placing them handy for him; and others 
were carrying away the straw from which the 
grain had been threshed. Soon a heap of corn 
was gathered on the floor, as clean as if it had 
been winnowed. 

In doing this the Piskey raised such a dust 
that it set him and some of the little men sneezing. 
And Kate, without stopping to think, called 
out: — 


"God bless you, little men!" 

Quick as a wink the lights vanished, and a 
handful of dust was thrown into her eyes, which 
blinded her so that for a moment she could not 
see. And then she heard the Piskey squeak: — 

"I spy thy face, 
Old Peeping Kate, 
I '11 serve thee out, 
Early and late!" 

Kate, when she heard this, felt very uneasy, 
for she remembered that the Little People have 
a great spite against any one who peeps at them, 
or pries into their doings. 

The night being clear, she quickly found her 
way out of a crooked lane, and ran as fast as she 
could, and never stopped until she reached the 
Gump. There she sat down to rest awhile. 

After that she stood up; and turn whichever 
way she might the same road lay before her. 
Then she knew that the Piskey was playing her 
a trick. So she ran down a hill as fast as she could, 
not caring in what direction she was going, so 
long as she could get away from the Piskey. 

After running a long while, she heard music 
and saw lights at no great distance. Thinking 
that she must be near a house, she went over 
the downs toward the lights, feeling ready for a 
jig, and stopping now and then to dance around 
and around to the strains of the music. 


But instead of arriving at a house, in passing 
around some high rocks she came out on a broad 
green meadow, encircled with furze and rocks. 
And there before her she saw a whole troop of 
Spriggans holding an Elfin Fair. It was like a 
feasten-day. Scores of little booths were stand- 
ing in rows, and were covered with tiny trinkets 
such as buckles of silver and gold glistening with 
Cornish diamonds, pins with jewelled heads, 
brooches, rings, bracelets, and necklaces of crystal 
beads, green and red or blue and gold; and many 
other pretty things new to Kate. 

There were lights in all directions — lanterns 
no bigger than Foxgloves were hanging in rows; 
and on the booths, rushlights in tulip-cups shone 
among Fairy goodies such as Kate had never 
dreamed of. Yet with all these lights there was 
such a shimmer over everything that she got bewil- 
dered, and could not see as plainly as she wished. 

She did not care to disturb the Little People 
until she had looked at all that was doing. So 
she crept softly behind the booths and watched 
the Spriggans dancing. Hundreds of them, linked 
hand in hand, went whirling around so fast as 
to make her dizzy. Small as they were, they were 
all decked out like rich folk, the little men in 
cocked hats and feathers, blue coats gay with lace 
and gold buttons, breeches and stockings of lighter 
hue, and tiny shoes with diamond buckles. 


Kate could not name the colours of the little 
ladies' dresses, which were of all the hues of 
Summer blossoms. The vain little things had 
powdered their hair, and decked their heads with 
ribbons, feathers, and flowers. Their shoes were 
of velvet and satin, and were high-heeled and 
pointed. And such sparkling blaek eyes as all 
the little ladies had, and such dimpled cheeks 
and chins ! And they were merry, sprightly, and 

AH the Spriggans were capering and dancing 
around a pole wreathed with flowers. The pipers, 
standing in their midst, played such lively airs 
that Kate never in all her life had wanted to 
dance more. But she kept quite still, for she did 
not wish the Little People to know that she was 
there. She was determined to pocket some of the 
pretty things in the booths, and steal softly away 
with them. She thought how nice a bright pair 
of diamond buckles would look on her best shoes, 
and how fine her Sunday cap would be orna- 
mented with a Fairy brooch. 

So she raised her hand and laid it on some 
buckles, when — oh! oh! — she felt a palmful 
'of pins and needles stick into her fingers like red- 
hot points; and she screamed: — 

"Misfortune take you, you bad little Sprig- 

Immediately the lights went out, and she felt 



TltDEN '-nny 


hundreds of the Little People leap on her back, 
and her neck, and her head. At the same moment 
others tripped up her heels, and laid her flat on 
the ground, and rolled her over and over. 

Then she caught sight of the Piskey mounted 
on a wild-looking colt, his toes stuck in its mane. 
He was holding a rush for a whip. And there he 
sat grinning from ear to ear, and urging on the 
Spriggans to torment her, with "Haw! Haw! 
Haw!" and "Tee! Hee! Hee!" 

She spread out her arms and squeezed herself 
tight to the ground, so that the Spriggans might 
not turn her over; but they squeaked and grunted, 
and over and over she went. And every time that 
they turned her face downward, some of the 
little fellows jumped on her back, and jigged 
away from her toe to her head. 

She reached around to beat them off with a 
stick, but they pulled it out of her hand; and, 
balancing it across her body, strided it, and 
bobbed up and down, singing: — 

"See-saw-pate I 
Lie still old Peeping Kate! 
See-saw-pate I 

Here we'll ride, early and late, 
On the back of Peeping Kate I" 

And with that, poor Kate, not to be beaten by 
the Spriggans, tossed back her feet to kick the 
little fellows away, but they pulled off her shoes 


and tickled and prickled the soles of her feet 
until she fell a-laughing and a-crying by turns. 

Kate was almost mad with their torment, 
when by good chance she remembered a charm 
that would drive away all mischievous spirits, 
on Hallowe'en. So she repeated it forwards and 
backwards, and in a twinkling all the little Sprig- 
gans fled screeching away, the Piskey galloping 
after them. 

Then she got on her feet and looked around. 
She saw, by the starlight of a clear frosty morn- 
ing, that the place to which she had been Piskey- 
led was a green spot near the Gump, where folks 
said the Spriggans held their nightly revels. And 
although the spot was very small, it had seemed to 
her like a ten-acre field because of enchantment. 
t And her hat, and her shoes, and her basket 
were gone; and poor Kate, barefooted and bare- 
headed, had to hobble home as best she could. 
And she reached Pendeen gate more dead than 


From Cornwall 

Sit down, Bobby, my boy. Eat some bread and 
cheese. Don't be afraid to drink the cider. It's 
all my own making. Sit down, and I'll tell you 
bow I lost the sight of my right eye. 

The last Christmas Eve I went to Penzance 
to buy a pair of shoes for myself, and some thread 
and buttons, and things to mend Master's clothes. 
I dearly like company, and as I started out I 
thought of old Betty down at the cove, she that 
they say is a Witch, you know. 

Thinks I to myself: "If she's a Witch, she'll 
not hurt me, as I never crossed her in my life. 
Witch or no Witch, I'll stop and have a bite of 
something hot at her little house," thought I. 

When I came to the house, the door was tight 
shut, and I heard a strange mumbling inside, but 
I could not make out what it was. So I took a 
peep through the latch-hole. And what did I 
see but old Betty standing by the chimney-piece 
with a little box in her hand, and she was mutter- 
ing something that sounded like a charm. She 
put her finger into the box and pulled it out again, 
and smeared some ointment over her eyes. Then 
she put the box into a hole near the chimney. 


I lifted the latch and walked in. "How-de-do, 
Betty," said I. 

"Welcome," said she, grinning and pleased. 
"Sit down by the fire. Now we'll have a good 
drop of something hot to ourselves, seeing that 
it's Christmas Eve," said she. 

"I'll take a thimbleful, just to drink your 
health and a Merry Christmas to you, with all 
my heart," said I; for I well knew that Betty 
made the best sweet drink, with sugar and spice 
and a roasted apple bobbing around in it. 

I put down my basket, and took off my coat, 
and sat by the fire; while Betty stepped into a 
closet to fetch the cups. 

Now, I had often wondered what made her 
eyes so clear and piercing. '' ? T is the Fairy 
ointment, or Witch salve in the box," thought I. 
"If it will do that to her eyes, it won't hurt me." 
So while she was gone, I took the box from the 
hole, where she had covered it with ferns, and 
put a bit of the ointment on my right eye. The 
stuff had no sooner touched me than it burned 
like fire, or as if needles and pins were being 
thrust into my eyeball. Just then Betty came 
from the closet, and I dragged the brim of my 
hat down over my right eye, so she should not 
see what had happened. 

After we had drunk each other's health three 
or four times, the pain went off, and I ventured 


to open my anointed eye. And oh! what did I 
see! The place was full of Spriggans! Troops of 
the Little People were cutting all sorts of capers 
in the folds of the nets and sails hung on the 
walls, in the bunches of herbs that swung from 
the rafters, and in the pots and pans on the 
dresser. Some of them were playing seesaw on 
the beams of the ceiling, tossing their heels and 
waving their feathered caps, as they teetered up 
and down on bits of straw or green twigs. Num- 
bers of them were swinging in the cobwebs that 
festooned the rafters or riding mice in and out 
through holes in the thatch. 

I noted that all the little men were dressed in 
green tricked out with red, and had feathered 
caps and high riding-boots with silver spurs. 
Their ladies, if you please, were all decked in 
grand fashion — their gowns were of green velvet 
with long trains and looped up with silver chains 
and bells. They wore high-crowned steeple-hats, 
with wreaths of the most beautiful flowers around 
them; while sprigs of blossoms and garlands dec- 
orated all parts of their dress, and were in their 
hands as well. They were the sauciest Little 
People I ever did see. They pranced around on 
their high-heeled boots sparkling with diamond 

When I peeped into the wood-corner under 
Betty's bunk, I spied some of the ugly Spriggans 


sitting there looking very gloomy because they 
have to watch the treasures that are hidden in 
the ground, and do other disagreeable things that 
the merry Spriggans never have to do. 

While looking into the dark corner I heard 
strains of sweet, unearthly music outside the 
house. Glancing around the room, I saw that 
all was changed. The walls were hung with tap- 
estry, the chimney stools on which we sat were 
carved chairs. Betty and I sat under a canopy 
of embroidered satin, and our feet rested on a 
silken carpet. And wherever the little Spriggans 
trod, they left circles like diamonds on the floor. 

The sweet music was now close at hand under 
the little window, and a moment after a troop 
of the Little People appeared on the window-sill, 
playing on pipes, flutes, and other instruments 
made of green reeds from the brook and of shells 
from the shore. 

The Fairy band stepped down most gracefully 
from the window-sill, and was closely followed 
by a long train of little men and women magnifi- 
cently dressed, and carrying bunches of flowers 
in their hands. All walked in an orderly proces- 
sion, two by two, and bowed or curtsied, to 
Betty, and cast the flowers in her lap. I saw their 
many bunches of Four-leaved Clover and sprigs 
of magic herbs. With these she makes her salves 
and lotions. 


Then all the Spriggans who had been dancing 
and capering about the ceiling and floor joined 
the others and came crowding around Betty. 
She did not look surprised, and I did not say 
anything to let her know that I saw. The Sprig- 
gans then began to pour dew over her dress out 
of flower-buds and from the bottles of the Fox- 
glove. Immediately her jacket was changed into 
the finest and richest cloth of a soft cream colour, 
and her dress became velvet the colour of all the 
flowers, and it was draped over a petticoat of silk 
quilted with silver cord. 

The Little People brought tiny nosegays of 
sky-blue Pimpernel, Forget-me-nots, and dainty 
flower-bells, blue, pink, and white, and hundreds 
of other Fairy blossoms like stars and butterflies. 
These delicate little sprigs they stitched all over 
Betty's silver-corded petticoat together with 
branching moss and the lace-like tips of the wild 
grass. All around the bottom of her skirt they 
made a wreath of tiny bramble leaves with roses 
and berries, red and black. 

Many of the Little People perched themselves 
on the top of the high-backed chair in which 
Betty sat, and even stood on her shoulders, so 
that they might arrange her every curl and every 
hair. Some took the lids off pretty little urns 
they carried in their hands, and poured perfume 
on her head, which spread the sweetest odours 


through the room. I very much admired the 
lovely little urns, with their grooved lids, but when 
I picked one up, it was only a seed-pod of the wild 
Poppy. They placed no other ornament in her hair 
except a small twig of holly full of bright red berries. 
Yet Betty, decked out by her Fairy friends, was 
more beautiful than the loveliest Queen of May. 

My senses were overcome by the smell of the 
Fairy odours, and the scent of the flowers, and 
the sweet perfume of honey, with which the walls 
of the house seemed bursting. And my head fell 
forward and I slept. 

How long I dozed I do not know, but when I 
woke I saw that all the little Spriggans were 
glaring at me angrily. They thrust out their 
tongues and made the most horrid grimaces. I 
was so frightened that I jumped up, and ran out 
of the house, and shut the door. 

But for the life of me, I could not leave the 
place without taking another peep. I put my 
left eye to the latch-hole — and would you be- 
lieve it? — the house was just as it was when I 
entered it; the floor was bare, and there sat Betty 
in her old clothes before the fire. Then I winked, 
and looked with the right eye, and there was 
the beautiful room, and Betty seated in her fine 
flower-gown, beneath the silken canopy, while 
all the little Spriggans were dancing and caper- 
ing around her. 


I tore myself away, glad to get out of the cove, 
and hurried to Penzance to do my shopping, al- 
though it was so late. And as I was standing in 
front of a booth, what should I see but a little 
Spriggan helping himself to hanks of yarn, stock- 
ings, and all sorts of fine things. 

"Ah! Ha! my little man!" cried L "Are you 
not ashamed to be carrying on this way, stealing 
all those goods?" 

"Is that thee, old Joan?" said he. "Which 
eye canst thou see me with?" 

After winking both my eyes, I said: "'Tis 
plain enough that I can see you with my right 

Then in a twinkling he pointed his finger at 
my right eye, and mumbled a spell, and I just 
caught the words : — 

"Joan tke Pry 
Shall nor peep nor spy. 
But shall lose 
Her charmed eye!" 

Then he blew in my face, and was gone. And 
when I looked around, my right eye was blind. 
And from that day to this I have never seen a 
blink with my anointed eye. 


Up the airy mountain, 

Down the rushy glen, 
We dare n't go a-hunting 

For fear of little men; 
Wee folk, good folk, 

Trooping all together; 
Green jacket, red cap, 

And white owl's feather! 

Down along the rocky shore 

Some make their home, 
They live on crispy pancakes 

Of yellow tide-foam; 
Some in the reeds 

Of the black mountain-lake, 
With frogs for their watch-dogs, 

All night awake. 

High on the hill-top 

The old King sits; 
He is now so old and gray 

He's nigh lost his wits. 
With a bridge of wiiite mist 

Columbkill he crosses, 


On his stately journeys 

From Slieveleague to Rosses; 
Or going up with music, 

On cold starry nights, 
To sup with the Queen 

Of the gay Northern Lights. 

They stole little Bridget 

For seven years long; 
When she came down again 

Her friends were all gone. 
They took her lightly back, 

Between the night and morrow; 
They thought that she was fast asleep, 

But she was dead with sorrow. 
They have kept her ever since 

Deep within the lakes, 
On a bed of flag leaves, 

Watching till she wakes. 

By the craggy hillside, 

Through the mosses bare, 
They have planted thorn-trees 

For pleasure here and there. 
Is any man so daring 

As dig one up in spite? 
He shall find their sharpest thorns 

In his bed at night. 


Up the airy mountain, 

Down the rushy glen, 
We dare n't go a-hunting 

For fear of little men; 
Wee folk, good folk, 

Trooping all together; 
Green jacket, red cap, 

And white owl's feather. 

William Allingham 


Their dwellings be 
In corners of old houses least frequented 
Or beneath stacks of wood; avd these contented 
Make fearful noise in butteries and in dairies; 
Robin Goodfellows some, some call them Fairies. 
In solitary rooms, these uproars keep; 
And beat at doors to wake men from their sleep. 

Pots, glasses, trenchers, dishes, pans, and kettles, 
They will make dance about the shelves and settles, 
As if about the kitchen tossed and cast, 
Yet in the morning nothing found misplaced 1 

From the Hieraechie of the Blessed Angells (1635) 


From the Basque 

Once upon a time there was a poor woman who 
had three daughters. 

One day the youngest said: "Mother, now 
that I am old enough, I wish to go out to 

The mother thought to herself: "If this one 
goes, why, there will be more to eat for the rest 
of us," so she said: "Very well, good luck go with 


The girl set out, and after she had walked a 
long way she came to a beautiful city. A hand- 
some lady met her, and asked : — 

"Where are you going, my child?" 

"I am going out to service," replied the girl. 

"Will you come with me to my home?" asked 
the lady. 

"Yes, indeed," said the girl, "and I'll try to 
serve you faithfully." 

The lady led her to a large and fine house, and 
told her what work she should do that day. 

"We are Fairies," said she. "I must go away 
for a short time, but do you work in the kitchen 
while I am gone. Dig up the kitchen floor, smash 
the pitcher, break the plates. Whip the children, 


throw dirt in their faces, and rumple their hair." 
Then the lady went away. 

The girl, who thought these orders very strange, 
began to feed the children. Just then a little dog 
came creeping up to her, wagging his tail. 

"Bow! Bow! Bow!" said he. "I, too, want 
something to eat!" 

So the girl gave him a plateful of breakfast, 
and when he had eaten all he wished, he said : — 

"You are a good girl, and I will tell you what 
to do to please my mistress. What she really 
meant was for you to sweep the kitchen floor, 
fill the pitcher, wash the dishes, and dress and feed 
the children. Do all this well, and she will give 
you the choice of a beautiful star on your fore- 
head or a donkey's tail hanging from your nose. 
Then she will offer you a sack of gold or a bag of 
charcoal. You must choose the donkey's tail and 
the bag of charcoal." 

Well, the girl did all as the little dog told her, 
and when the mistress came home she smiled and 
said: — 

"Choose which you will have, a beautiful star 
on your forehead, or a donkey's tail hanging from 
your nose." 

"A donkey's tail is the same to me," said the 

"Will you have a sack of gold or a bag of char- 
coal?" asked the lady. 


"The bag of charcoal is the same to me," said 
the girl. 

Then the lady placed a beautiful star on her 
forehead, and gave her a big sackful of gold, and 
told her she might go back to her mother. 

The girl thanked the lady, and leaving the 
house hastened home. When her mother and 
sisters saw how pretty she was with the star on 
her forehead, and when they felt the big sack of 
gold on her shoulder, they were astonished. 

Then the eldest sister began to cry and say; 
"Mother, I will go out and be a servant, 

"No! no! my child," said the mother, "I will 
not let you go." 

But the girl wept, and would not leave her 
mother in peace until she said, "Go"; then she 
set off and walked until she came to the Fairy 

The handsome lady met her and asked: — 

"Where are you going, my child?" 

"I am going out to service," said the girl. 

"Will you come with me to my home?" asked 
the lady. 

The girl said she would, so the lady led her to 
the large and fine house and told her what work 
she should do that day. 

"Dig up the kitchen floor," said she, "smash 
the pitcher, break the plates. Whip the children, 


throw dirt in their faces, and rumple their hair." 
Then she went away. 

As soon as the lady was gone, the girl began to 
eat up all the good things in the pantry. Just 
then the little dog came creeping up to her, wag- 
ging his tail. 

"Bow! Bow! Bow! I, too, want something 
to eat," he said. 

"Go away, you horrid little beast," answered 
the girl, and she gave him a kick. 

But the little dog would not leave her, and fol- 
lowed Aer about until she drove him from the 
kitchen with blows. Then she dug up the kitchen 
floor, smashed the pitcher, broke all the plates, 
whipped the children, threw dirt in their faces, 
and rumpled their hair. 

By and by the mistress came home, and when 
she saw what the girl had been doing she frowned 
and said: — 

"Choose which you will have, a beautiful star 
on your forehead or a donkey's tail hanging from 
your nose." 

"A star on my forehead for me," said the girl. 

"Will you have a sack of gold or a bag of char- 
coal?" asked the lady. 

"A sack of gold for me," said the girl. 

Then the lady hung a donkey's tail on the end 
of her nose, and gave her a big bag of charcoal, 
and sent her back to her home. And when her 


mother saw her she was so ashamed that she 
locked her in the cellar. 

As for the youngest girl, she shared her sack 
of gold with her mother and other sister, and then 
she married a fine young man, and lived happily 
ever after. 


From England 

There was once a little cottage in the middle 
of a flower garden. Its walls were covered with 
roses, and its porch was twined with clematis. 
The bees buzzed over the flowers, and the butter- 
flies fluttered about the porch. And a hundred 
little green Pixies lived in the wood near by. 

In this cottage two orphan sisters dwelt all 
alone. One morning the elder sister, Mary, got 
up at break of day. She milked the cow, churned 
the butter, swept the hearth, and made the 
breakfast. Then she sat on the porch to spin, 
and sang: — 

"How merrily the wheel goes round, 
With a whirring, humming sound!" 

But the younger sister, Alice, lay in bed asleep. 
Then Mary put her spinning aside, and called : — 

"Wake, Alice, wake! There is much for you 
to do while I go to the market-town. I must sell 
our yarn, and buy your new dress. While I am 
gone, don't forget to bring in the firewood, drain 
the honeycomb, and fill the Pixies' water-pail." 

But Alice did not answer. So Mary put on her 
hood and took her basket full of yarn. She 


walked all the way to the market-town and sold 
her yarn, and bought the new dress. Then she 
walked home again. 

The sun was set when she reached the cottage, 
and Alice was sitting idle on the porch. „ The 
honeycomb was not drained, the firewood was 
not brought in, the bed was not made, and the 
supper was uncooked. And although Mary was 
tired and hungry, she had to cook the supper and 
make the bed. Then the sisters went to sleep. 

By and by, the himdred little green Pixies 
came creeping, creeping into the kitchen. They 
pattered softly about and whispered so that the 
sisters should not hear them. Some ran to the 
spinning-wheel and began to spin, others built a 
fire under the oven, and mixed and kneaded the 
bread. One took a broom and swept the floor, 
and another brought in the firewood. 

When all the yarn was spun, the bread baked, 
and the kitchen tidy, the Pixies ran to the water- 
pail to get a drink. But there was not a drop of 
water in it! And, oh! how angry they were! 
\ Then Mary awoke, and cried: "Alice! Alice! 
Don't you hear those angry buzzings? Surely 
you did not forget to fill the Pixies' water-pail!" 

But Alice answered: "I did not draw the water 
to-day. And I will not leave my bed now to fetch 
it for any little Pixy!" Then she went to sleep 


But Mary got up, and, though her feet were 
tired and sore, she took the pail and ran through 
the garden to the spring. And as she stooped she 
saw a hundred little faces laughing at her from 
the water. She clipped her pail, and they were 
gone. She lifted the full pail, and felt little hands 
seize it and bear it along. It was carried to the 
door, and into the kitchen, and set down by the 
hearth. But she could see no one, so she went to 
bed again. 

The next morning early, Mary got up. She 
ran to the pail and looked into it. Then she 
clapped her hands and called: — 

"Come, Alice, come! See the silver pennies 
shining at the bottom of the clear w 7 ater! There 
must be a hundred of them! Come, sister, dear ! " 

Then Alice, waking, tried to sit up. But she 
screamed with fright, for she could not move her 
hands and feet. Indeed, she could not rise at all! 
And that day, and the next, and for many days 
after, she lay helpless on her bed, and Mary fed 
and comforted her. 

And every night the hundred little green Pixies 
came creeping, creeping into the kitchen. They 
swept, they baked, they sewed, they spun, and 
they drank from Mary's water-pail. And every 
night they left one piece of silver there. 

And so a whole year passed, and Alice lay and 
thought, and thought, and thought about her 


idle ways. And one night she called Mary to her, 
and wept and said: — 

"Oh, sister, if only I could get up to-morrow, 
and feel the warm sunshine and play among the 
flowers ! And if only I were strong enough to work 
for you, as you have worked for me!" 

And Mary kissed and comforted her. 

The next morning came, and Mary got up at 
break of day. She ran and looked into the water- 
pail. Then she clapped her hands and called: — 

"Come, Alice, come! See the silver pennies 
shining at the bottom of the clear water! There 
must be a hundred of them! Come, sister, dear!" 

And Alice forgot that she could not move. 
She sprang lightly out of bed and ran into the 
kitchen. And she was all well and happy again! 

And oh, how glad the sisters were! How they 
kissed each other and laughed with joy! They 
milked the cow, and churned, and baked, and 
cooked, and sat spinning on the porch. And the 
bees buzzed, and the butterflies fluttered, and 
the sisters sang: — 

" How merrily the wheels go round, 
With a whirring, humming sound 1 " 


From Scotland 


Have you ever heard of the Brownie, Aiken- 

Drum? No? Well, I will tell you how he came 

to Blednoch. It was in the Autumn time. The 

red sun was setting, when through our town he 

passed crying, oh! so wearily: — 

"Have ye work for Aiken-Drum? 
Have ye work for Aiken-Drum?" 

He tirled at the pin, and entered in. I trow 
the boldest there stood back! You should have 
heard the children scream. The black dog barked, 
the lasses shrieked, at the sight of Aiken-Drum. 

His matted head lay on his breast. A long blue 

beard fell to his waist. Around his hairy form 

was wrapped a cloth of woven rushes green. His 

long, thin arms trailed on the ground. His hands 

were claws; his feet had no toes. Oh, fearful to 

see was Aiken-Drum! And all the time he cried 

so wearily, so drearily : — 

"Have ye work for Aiken-Drum f 
Have ye work for Aiken-Drum f ' 

Then the brave goodman stood forth, and 

said: "What would you? Whence come you by 

land or sea?" 


Then what a groan gave Aiken-Drum! "I 
come from a land where I never saw the sky! 
But now I'll bide with you, if ye have work for 
Aiken-Drum! I'll watch your sheep and tend 
your kine, each night till day. I'll thresh your 
grain by the light of the moon. I'll sing strange 
songs to your bonny bairns, if ye '11 but keep poor 
Aiken-Drum! I'll churn the cream, I'll knead 
the bread, I'll tame the wildest colts ye have, if 
ye '11 but keep poor Aiken-Drum! No clothes 
nor gold is wage for me. A bowl of porridge on 
the warm hearthstone is wage enough for Aiken- 

"The Brownie speaks well," said the old house- 
wife. "Our workers are scarce. We have much 
to do. Let us try this Aiken-Drum." 

Then should you have seen the Brownie work! 
By night he swept the kitchen clean. He scoured 
the pots until they shone. By the light of the 
moon he threshed the grain. He gathered the 
crops into the barn. He watched the sheep 
and tended the kine. By day he played with 
the bonny bairns, and sang them strange songs 
of the land without sky. So passed the months 
away, and all farm-things throve for the good- 
man and the old housewife. 

But when the cold night winds blew hard, a 
lass, who saw the Brownie's clothes woven all of 
rushes green, made him a suit of sheep's wool 


warm. She placed it by his porridge bowl. And 

that night was heard a wailing cry, so weary and 

so dreary : — 

"Long, long may I now weep and groan! 
Wages of clothes are now my own ! 
luckless Aiken-Drum!" 

And down the street and through the town, 

his voice came back upon the wind : — 

(t Farewell to Blednoch! 
Farewell! Farewell!" 

And never again in all that land was seen the 
Brownie Aiken-Drum! 


From Sweden 

Once upon a time a little girl named Elsa lived 
on a farm. She was pretty, sweet-tempered, and 
generous, but she did not like to work. Her 
father was very proud of her, and sent her to 
school in the city. She learned to read, write, 
sing, and dance, but still she did not know how to 
cook, sew, or care for a house. 

When she grew older, she was so good and beau- 
tiful that many young men wished her for a wife, 
but she said "No" to all except to her neighbour, 
Gunner, a handsome, industrious young farmer. 
Soon they were married, and went to live on his 

At first all was happiness, but as the days 
passed, and Elsa did not direct the servants or 
look after the house, everything went wrong. 
The storerooms were in disorder, the food was 
stolen, and the house dirty. Poor Gunner was at 
his wits' end; he loved Elsa too much to scold her. 

The day before Christmas came, the sun had 
been up for a long time, and still Elsa lay in bed. 
A servant ran into her room, saying: — 

"Dear mistress, shall we get ready the men's 
luncheon so that they may go to the woods?" 


"Leave the room," said Elsa sleepily, "and do 
not waken me again!" 

Another servant came running in. "Dear mis- 
tress," she cried, "the leaven is working, and if 
you come quickly the bread will be better than 

"I want candlewicks, dear mistress," called a 

"And what meat shall we roast for to-morrow's 
feast?" shouted a fourth. 

And so it was; servant after servant came run- 
ning into the room asking for orders, but Elsa 
would neither answer nor get up. 

Last of all came Gunner, impatient because his 
men had not yet started for the woods. 

"Dear Elsa," he said gently, "my mother used 
to prepare things the night before, so that the 
servants might begin work early. We are now 
going to the woods, and shall not be back until 
night. Remember there are a few yards of cloth 
on the loom waiting to be woven." Then Gunner 
went away. 

As soon as he was gone, Elsa got up in a rage, 
and, dressing herself, ran through the kitchen to 
the little house where the loom was kept. She 
slammed the door behind her, and threw herself 
down on a couch. 

"No!" she screamed. "I won't! — I won't 
endure this drudgery any more! Who would 


have thought that Gunner would make a servant 
of me, and wear my life out with work? Oh, me! 
Oh, me ! Is there no one from far or near to help 

"I can," said a deep voice. 

And Elsa, raising her head with fright, saw 
standing close to her an old man wrapped in a 
gray cloak and wearing a broad-brimmed hat. 

"I am Old Man Hoberg," he said, "and have 
served your family for many generations. You, 
my child, are unhappy because you are idle. To 
love work is a joy. I will now give you ten obedi- 
ent servants who shall do all your tasks for you." 

He shook his cloak, and out of its folds tum- 
bled ten funny little men. They capered and 
pranced about, making faces. Then they swiftly 
put the room in order and finished weaving the 
cloth on the loom. After all was done they ran 
and stood in an obedient row before Elsa. 

"Dear child, reach hither your hands," said 
the old man. 

And Elsa, trembling, gave him the tips of her 

Then he said : — 

' ' Hop-o 9 ~My- Thumb, 
Little-Peter-Funny -Man, 
Away all of you to your places!" 


And in the twinkling of an eye the little men 
vanished into Elsa's fingers, and the old man dis- 

Elsa could hardly believe what had happened, 
and sat staring at her hands. Suddenly a won- 
derful desire to work came over her. She could 
sit still no longer. 

"Why am I idling here?" cried she cheerfully. 
"It is late in the morning and the house is not 
in order! The servants are waiting." And up she 
jumped and hastened into the kitchen, and was 
soon giving orders and singing while she prepared 
the dinner. 

And when Gunner came home that night all 
was clean and bright to welcome him, and the 
smell of good things to eat filled the house. 

And after that day Elsa rose early each morn- 
ing, and went about her work sweet-tempered 
and happy. No one was more pleased and proud 
than she to see how the work of the farmhouse 
prospered under her hands. And health, wealth, 
and happiness came and stayed with Elsa and 


From Cornwall 

9 T is told in the west country, how the Piskey 
threshed the corn, and did other odd jobs for 
Farmer Boslow as long as the old man lived. And 
after his death the Piskey worked for his widow. 
And this is how she lost the little fellow. 

One night, when the hills were covered with 
snow, and the wind was blowing hard, the Widow 
Boslow left in the barn, for the Piskey, a larger 
bowl than usual full of milk thickened with oat- 
meal. It was clear moonlight, and she stopped 
outside the door, and peeped in to see if the Pis- 
key would come to eat his supper while it was 

The moonlight shone through a little window 
on to the barn floor; and there, sitting on a sheaf 
of oats, she saw the Piskey greedily eating his 
thickened milk. He soon emptied the bowl and 
scraped it as clean with the wooden spoon as if 
it had been washed. Then he placed them both 
in a corner, and stood up and patted and stroked 
his stomach, and smacked his lips, as if to say: 
"That's good of the old dear! See if I don't 
thresh well for her to-night!" 

But when the Piskey turned around, the widow 


saw that he had nothing on but rags, and very 
few of them. 

"How the poor Piskey must suffer!" thought 
she. " He has to pass most of his time out among 
the rushes in the boggy moor, and his legs are 
naked, and his breeches are full of holes. I'll 
make the poor fellow a good warm suit of home- 
spun, at once!" 

No sooner thought than she went home and 
began the suit. In a day or two she had made a 
coat and breeches, and knitted a long pair of 
sheep's wool stockings, with garters and a night- 
cap all nicely knitted, too. 

When night came, the w T idow placed the Pis- 
key's new clothes and a big bowl of thiekened 
milk on the barn floor, just where the moonlight 
fell brightest. Then she went outside, and 
peeped through the door. 

Soon she saw the Piskey eating his supper, and 

squinting at the new clothes. Laying down his 

empty bowl, he took the things, and put them 

on over his rags. Then he began capering and 

jumping around the barn, singing: — 

"Piskey fine! and Piskey gay! 
Piskey now will run away!" 

And sure enough, he bolted out of the door, 
and passed the widow, without so much as "I 
wish you well till I see you again ! " And he never 
came back to the farm. 


From Sweden 

Once upon a time there was a lovely young girl, 
daughter of rich parents, who was known for her 
gentleness and goodness. 

One night, while she was lying awake in her ^ 
bed, watching the moonbeams dance on the floor, 
her door was softly opened. Then in tripped a 
little Fairy man clad in a gray jacket and red cap. 
He came lightly toward her bed, nodding in a 
most friendly way. 

"Do not be afraid, dear lady," he said. "I 
have come to ask a favour of you." 

"And I will do it willingly, if I can," answered 
the girl, who had begun to recover from her 

"Oh, it will not be difficult!" said the Fairy 
man. "For many years I and mine have lived 
under the floor of your kitchen, just where the 
water-cask stands. But the cask has become 
old and leaky, so that we are continually an- 
noyed by the dripping of water. Our home is 
never dry." 

"That shall be seen to in the morning," said 
the girl* 

"Thank you, dear lady," said the Fairy man, 


and making an elegant bow, he disappeared as 
softly as he had come. 

The next day, at the girl's request, her par- 
ents had the water-cask removed. And after that, 
to the surprise of the servants, the kitchen-work 
was done at night when all slept, and never a 
pitcher or glass was broken in the house from that 
day forth. So the Fairies showed their gratitude. 

Well, a few months after this, the pretty young 
girl was again lying awake in her bed, watching 
the moonbeams dance on the floor, when again 
her door was opened softly, and the Fairy man 
stole in. 

"Dear lady," said he, smiling and bowing, 
"now I have another request to make, which, in 
your kindness, you will surely not refuse to grant." 

"What is it?" asked she. 

"Will you honour me and my house, to-night," 
he replied, "and stand at the christening of my 
newly born daughter?" 

The girl arose and dressing herself, followed 
the Fairy man through many passages and rooms 
that she had never known existed. At last they 
entered a small but elegant apartment, in which 
a host of Fairies were assembled. They imme- 
diately christened the Fairy baby. And as the 
little man was about to conduct the girl again 
to her room, the Fairies filled her pockets with 
what looked like shavings. 


The little man then led her back through the 
same winding passages, and as soon as she was 
safely in her room, he said: — 

"If we should meet at another time, you must 
never laugh at me and mine. We love you for 
your goodness and modesty, but if you laugh at 
us, you and I shall never see each other again." 

When he was gone the girl threw all the shav- 
ings into the fireplace, and lay down, and went 
to sleep. And, lo, the next morning when the 
maid came in to build the fire, she found in the 
ashes the most beautiful jewelry, all of pure gold 
set with gems, and of the finest workmanship! 

Now, it happened, some time after this, that 
the girl's wedding day arrived. There was great 
bustling, and preparations for a splendid feast. 
At length the wedding hour came. The bride, 
beautifully dressed and wearing her Fairy jewels 
and a crown on her golden hair, was conducted 
to the hall where the guests were waiting. 

During the ceremony she chanced to glance 
around the hall. She saw, near the fireplace, all 
her friends the Fairies gathered for a wedding 
feast. The bridegroom was a little Elf, and the 
bride was her goddaughter, and the feast was 
spread on a golden table. 

No one but the girl could see the Fairies. Just 
at that moment one of the Elves, who was acting 
as waiter at the Fairy bridal, stumbled over a 


twig that lay on the floor, and fell. Forgetting 
the caution that the little man had given her, the 
girl burst into a hearty laugh. 

Instantly the golden table, the Elfin bride- 
groom and bride, and all the Fairy guests van- 
ished. And from that day to this, no work was 
ever done at night in that kitchen, nor were any 
Fairies ever seen about that house. 


From Sweden 

Every child knows — or ought to know if he 
does not know — that the Tomt is a queer little 
Elfin man, old and wizen, and clad in gray clothes 
and red cap. He lives in the pantry or in the barn. 
At night he washes the dishes and sweeps the 
kitchen floor, or threshes the farmer's corn and 
looks after his sheep. Oh, the Tomt is a very 
friendly Elf, but his feelings are easily hurt! And 
if any one is impolite to him, he runs away, and 
is never seen again. 

Now, it happened, once upon a time, that there 
was a farmer whose crops and flocks and herds 
prospered so well that all knew he was aided by 
a Tomt. In fact he became the richest farmer in 
his neighbourhood. Although he had few serv- 
ants, his house was always in order, and his 
grain nicely threshed. But he never saw the Elf 
who did all these things for liim. 

One night he decided to watch and see who 
worked in his barn. He hid behind a door. By 
and by he saw, not one Tomt, but a multitude 
of Tomts come into the barn. Each carried a 
stalk of rye; but the littlest Tomt of all, not 
bigger than a thumb, puffed and breathed very 


hard, although he carried but a straw on his 

"Why do you puff so hard?" cried the farmer 
from his hiding-place. "Your burden is not so 

"His burden is according to his strength, for 
he is but one night old," answered one of the 
Tomts. "Hereafter you shall have less!" 

And with that all the little men vanished, and 
the grain lay unthreshed on the barn floor. 

And from that day all luck disappeared from 
the farmer's house, and he was soon reduced to 


Full merrily rings the millstone round, 

Full merrily rings the wheel, 
Full merrily gushes out the grist — 

Come, taste my fragrant meal ! 
As sends the lift its snowy drift, 

So the meal comes in a shower; 
Work, Fairies, fast, for time flies past — 

I borrowed the mill an hour. 

The miller he's a worldly man, 

And maun hae double fee; 
So draw the sluice of the churl's dam, 

And let the stream come free. 
Shout, Fairies, shout! see, gushing out, 

The meal comes like a river : 
The top of the grain on hill and plain 

Is ours, and shall be ever. 

One Elf goes chasing the wild bat's wing 

And one the white owl's horn; 
One hunts the fox for the white o' his tail, 

And we winna hae him till morn. 
One idle Fay, with the glow-worm's ray, 

Runs glimmering 'mong the mosses: 
Another goes tramp wi' the Will-o-wisps' lamp, 

To light a lad to the lasses. 


Oh, haste, my brown Elf, bring me corn 

From Bonnie Blaekwood plains; 
Go, gentle Fairy, bring me grain 

From green Dalgona mains; 
But, pride of a' at Closeburn ha', 

Fair is the corn and fatter; 
Taste Fairies, taste, a gallanter grist 

Has never been wet with water. 

Hilloah! my hopper is heaped high; 

Hark to the well-hung wheels! 
They sing for joy; the dusty roof 

It clatters and it reels. 
Haste, Elves, and turn yon mountain burn — 

Bring streams that shine like siller; 
The dam is down, the moon sinks soon, 

And I maun grind my miller. 

Ha! bravely done, my wanton Elves, 

That is a foaming stream: 
See how the dust from the mill flies, 

And chokes the cold moon-beam. 
Haste, Fairies, fleet come baptized feet, 

Come sack and sweep up clean, 
And meet me soon, ere sinks the moon, 

In thy green vale, Dalreen. 

Allan Cunningham 


Over hill, over dale, 

Through bush, through briar, 
Over park, over pale, 

Through flood, through fire, 

I do wander everywhere, 

Swifter than the moon's sphere; 
And I serve the Fairy Queen, 
To dew her orbs upon the green. 
The Cowslips tall Iter pensioners be; 
In their gold coats spots you see; 
Those be rubies, Fairy favours, 
In those freckles live their savours. 
I must go seek some dew-drops here, 
And hang a pearl in every Cowslip's ear. 



From Japan 

Once upon a time a poor widow and her little 
boy lived in a cave in the midst of a great forest. 
The little one's name was Kintaro the Golden 
Boy. He was a sturdy fellow with red cheeks and 
laughing eyes. He was different from other boys. 
When he fell down, he sang cheerily; if he wan- 
dered away from the cave, he could always find 
his way home again; and while he was yet very 
small, he could swing a heavy axe in circles round 
his head. 

Kintaro grew to be ten years old, and a hand- 
some, manly lad he was. Then his mother looked 
at him often and sighed deeply. "Must my child 
grow up in this lonely forest!" thought she sadly. 
"Will he never take his place in the world of 
men! Alas! Alas!" 

But Kintaro was perfectly happy. The forest 
was full of his playmates. Every living thing 
loved him. When he lay on his bed of ferns, the 
birds flew nestling to his shoulder, and peeped 
into his eyes. The butterflies and moths settled 
on his face, and trod softly over his brown body. 
But his truest friends were the bears that dwelt 
in the* forest. When he was tired of walking, a 


mother-bear carried him on her back. Her cubs 
ran to greet him, and romped and wrestled with 
him. Sometimes Kintaro would climb up the 
smooth-barked monkey-tree, and sit on the top- 
most bough, and laugh at the vain efforts of his 
shaggy cub-friends to follow him. Then came 
the bears' supper-time, and the feast of golden 
liquid honey! 

Now, it happened, one Summer, that there 
was to be a great day of sports for the forest 
creatures. Soon after dawn, a gentle-eyed stag 
came to waken Kintaro. The boy, with a fare- 
well kiss to his mother, and a caress to the stag, 
leaped on his friend's back, and wound his arms 
around his soft neck. And away they went with 
long, noiseless bounds through the forest. 

Up hill, across valleys, through thickets they 
bounded, until they reached a leafy spot in a 
wide, green glade near a foaming cataract. There 
the stag set Kintaro down; and the boy seated 
himself on a mossy stone, and began to whistle 

Immediately the forest rustled with living 
things. The song-birds came swiftly to his call. 
The eagle and the hawk flew from distant heights. 
The crane and the heron stepped proudly from 
their hyacinth-pools and hastened to the glade. 
All Kintaro 's feathered friends flocked thither 
and rested in the cedar branches. Then through 


the undergrowth came running the wolf, the bear, 
the badger, the fox, and the martin, and seated 
themselves around Kintaro. 

They all began to speak to him. He listened 
as they told their joys and sorrows, and he spoke 
graciously to each. For Kintaro had learned the 
languages of beasts, birds, and flowers. 

And who had taught Kintaro all this? The 
Tengus, the Wood-Elves. And even while he was 
listening to the forest creatures, the Tengus 
themselves came tumbling out of the trees, or 
popping up from behind stones. Very strange 
little Elves they were! Each had the body of a 
man, the head of a hawk, powerful claws, and a 
long, long nose that usually trailed on the ground. 
And every little Tengu wore on his feet tiny stilt- 
like clogs. 

All these queer Wood-Elves came toward 
Kintaro, walking very proudly with their arms 
crossed, heads well thrown back, and long noses 
held erect in the air. At their head was the Chief 
Tengu, very old, with a gray beard and a sharp 

The Chief Tengu seated himself beside Kin- 
taro on the mossy stone, and waved a seven- 
feathered fan in the air. Immediately the sports 

The young Tengus were fond of games. They 
found their long noses most useful. They now 


fenced with them, and balanced bowls full of 
gold-fish on them. Then two of the Tengus 
straightened their noses, and joined them to- 
gether, and so made a tight rope. On this a young 
Tengu, with a paper umbrella in one hand, and 
leading a little dog with the other, danced and 
jumped through a hoop. And all the time an old 
Tengu sang a dance-song, and another Tengu 
beat time with a fan. 

Kintaro cheered loudly, and clapped his hands; 
and the beasts and birds barked, hissed, growled, 
or sang for pleasure. So the morning passed 
swiftly and delightfully, and the time came for 
the forest animals to take part in the sports. 
They did so running, leaping, tumbling, and fly- 

Last of all stood up a great father-bear to 
w T restle with Kintaro. Now, the boy had been 
taught to fight by his friends the Tengus; and he 
had learned from them many skilful tricks. So 
he and the bear gripped each other, and began 
to wrestle very hard. The bear was powerful 
and strong, and his elaws like iron, but Kintaro 
was not afraid. Backward and forward they 
swayed, and struggled, while the Tengus and the 
forest creatures sat watching. 

Now, it happened that the great Hero Raiko 
was just returning from slaying many horrible 
ogres and hags. His way lay through the forest, 


and at that moment he heard the noise of 
the wrestling. He stopped his horse and peered 
through the trees into the glade. There he saw 
the circle of animals and little Tengus, and Kin- 
taro struggling with the powerful bear. Just at 
that moment the boy, with a skilful movement, 
threw the clumsy creature to the ground. 

"I must have that boy for my son," thought 
Raiko. "He will make a great hero! He must 
be mine!" 

So he waited until Kintaro had mounted the 
stag and bounded away through the forest. Then 
Raiko followed him on his swift steed to the cave. 

When Kintaro 's mother learned that Raiko 
was the mighty warrior who had slain the ogres 
and hags, she let him take her son to his castle. 
But before Kintaro went, he called together all 
his friends, the Tengus, the birds, and the beasts, 
and bade them farewell, in words that they re- 
member to this day. 

His mother did not follow her son to the land 
of men, for she loved the forest best; but Kin- 
taro, when he became a great hero, often came 
to see her in her home. And all the people of 
Japan called him "Kintaro the Golden Boy." 


From China 

Once upon a time, high on a mountain-side, there 
was a place where many beautiful flowers grew, 
mostly Peonies and Camellias. A young man 
named Hwang, who wished to study all alone, 
built himself a little house near by. 

One day he noticed from his window a lovely 
young girl dressed in white, wandering about 
among the flowers. He hastened out of the house 
to see who she was, but she ran behind a tall 
white Peony, and vanished. 

Hwang was very much astonished, and sat 
down to watch. Soon the girl slipped from be- 
hind the white Peony, bringing another girl with 
her who was dressed in red. They wandered 
about hand in hand until they came near Hwang, 
when the girl in red gave a scream, and together 
the two ran back among the flowers, their robes 
and long sleeves fluttering in the wind and scent- 
ing all the air. Hwang dashed after them, but 
they had vanished completely. 

That evening, as Hwang was sitting over his 
books, he was astonished to see the white girl 
walk into his little room. With tears in her eyes 
she seemed to be pleading with him to help her. 


Hwang tried to comfort her, but she did not 
speak. Then, sobbing bitterly, she suddenly 

This appeared to Hwang as very strange. How- 
ever, the next day a visitor came to the mountain, 
who, after wandering among the flowers, dug up 
the tall white Peony, and carried it off. Hwang 
then knew that the white girl was a Flower 
Fairy; and he became very sad because he had 
permitted the Peony to be carried away. Later 
he heard that the flower had lived only a few 
days. At this he wept, and, going to the place 
where the Peony had stood, watered the spot 
with his tears. 

While he was weeping, the girl in red suddenly 
stood before him, wringing her hands, and wiping 
her eyes. 

"Alas!" cried she, "that my dear sister should 
have been torn from my side! But the tears, 
Hwang, that you have shed, may be the means of 
restoring her to us!" 

Having said this, the red girl disappeared. But 
that very night Hwang dreamed that she came 
to him, and seemed to implore him to help her, 
just as the white girl had done. In the morning 
he found that a new house was to be erected close 
by, and that the builder had given orders to cut 
down a beautiful tall red Camellia. 

Hwang prevented the destruction of the flower; 


and that same evening, as he sat watching the 
Camellia, from behind its tall stem came the white 
girl herself, hand in hand with her red sister. 

"Hwang," said the red girl, "the King of the 
Flower Fairies, touched by your tears, has re- 
stored my white sister to us. But as she is now 
only the ghost of a flower, she must dwell for- 
ever in a white Peony, and you will never see her 

At these words Hwang caught hold of the 
white girl's hand, but it melted away in his; and 
both the sisters vanished forever from his sight. 
In despair he looked wildly around him, and all 
that he saw was a tall white Peony and a beauti- 
ful red Camellia. 

After that Hwang pined, and fell ill, and died. 
He was buried at his own request, by the side of 
the white Peony; and before very long another 
white Peony grew up very straight and tall on 
Hwang's grave; so that the two flowers stood 
lovingly side by side. 


From Cornwall 

In ancient days, in the land of Wales, there was 
a blue lake on a high mountain. No one had 
ever seen a bird fly near it. And over its waves 
came faint strains of delicious music, that seemed 
to float from a dimly seen island in its centre. 
No one had ever ventured to sail on its water, 
for every one knew that it was the abode of the 
Tylwyth Teg, the Water Fairies. 

It happened, one lovely Summer day, that a 
hunter was wandering along the margin of the 
lake, and found himself before an open door in a 
rock. He entered, and walked along a dark pas- 
sage that led downward. He followed this for 
some time, and suddenly found himself passing 
through another door, that opened on the mys- 
terious, lovely island, the home of the Tylwyth 

All around him was a most enchanting garden, 
where grew every sort of delicious fruit and fra- 
grant flower. The next moment a number of 
Fairies advanced toward him, and graciously wel- 
comed him to their abode. They bade him eat as 
much fruit as he wished, and pick the flowers, but 
told him not to take anything away with him. 


All day he remained on the island, listening to 
the most ravishing music, and feasting and danc- 
ing with the Fairies. 

When it came time for him to leave, he hid a 
flower in his bosom, for he wished to show it to 
his friends at home. He then said farewell to the 
Fairies, and returned through the dark passage 
to the margin of the lake. But when he put his 
hand in his bosom to pull out the flower, he found 
to his amazement that it had vanished. At the 
same moment he fell insensible to the ground. 

When he came to himself, the door in the rock 
had disappeared. And though he searched day 
after day, he never again found the passage to 
the Fairy Island. 


From Cornwall 

Some years ago, in Cornwall, there was a farmer 
who owned a fine red cow, named Rosy. She 
gave twice as much milk as any ordinary cow. 
Even in Winter, when other cows were reduced 
to skin and bone, Rosy kept in good condition, 
and yielded richer milk than ever. 

One Spring, Rosy continued to give plenty of 
milk every morning, but at night, when Molly 
the maid tried to milk her, she kicked the bucket 
over and galloped away across the field. This 
happened night after night, and such behaviour 
was so strange, that Dame Pendar, the farmer's 
wife, decided to see what she could do. But no 
sooner did she try to milk Rosy than the cow put 
up her foot, kicked the bucket to bits, and raced 
away, bellowing, tail-on-end. 

During this Spring the farmer's cattle and 
fields thrived wonderfully. And so tilings con- 
tinued until May Day. Now, on May Day night, 
when Molly attempted, as usual, to milk Rosy, 
she was surprised to see the cow stand quietly 
and to hear her begin to moo gently; and, more 
wonderful still, the pail was soon full of foaming 
new milk. Molly rose from her stool, and, pull- 


ing a handful of grass, rolled it into a pad, and 
tucked it in her hat, so that she might the more 
easily carry the bucket on her head. 

She put the hat on again, when what was her 
amazement to see whole swarms of little Fairies 
running around Rosy, while others were on her 
back, neck, and head, and still others were under 
her, holding up clover blossoms and buttercups 
in which to catch the streams of milk that flowed 
from her udder. The little Fairies moved around 
so swiftly that Molly's head grew dizzy as she 
watched them. Rosy seemed pleased. She tried 
to lick the Little People. They tickled her behind 
the horns, ran up and down her back, smoothing 
each hair or chasing away the flies. And after 
all the Fairies had drunk their fill, "they brought 
armfuls of clover and grass to Rosy; and she ate 
it all, and lowed for more. 

Molly stood with her bucket on her head, like 
one spell-bound, watching the Little People; and 
she would have continued to stand there, but 
Dame Pendar, the farmer's wife, called her 
loudly to know why she had not brought the milk, 
if there was any. 

At the first sound of Dame Pendar's voice, all 
the Fairies pointed their fingers at Molly, and 
made such wry faces that she was frightened al- 
most to death. Then — whiskl and they were 


Molly hurried to the house, and told her mis- 
tress, and her master, too, all that she had seen. 

"Surely," said Dame Pendar, "you must have 
a Four-leaved Clover somewhere about you. Give 
me the wad of grass in your hat." 

Molly took it out, and gave it to her; and sure 
enough there was the Four-leaved Clover which 
had opened Molly's eyes on that May Day. 

As for Rosy, she kicked up her heels, and, bel- 
lowing like mad, galloped away. Over meadows 
and moors she went racing and roaring, and was 
never seen again. 


From Scotland 

Once upon a time a little girl, named Jessie, was 
wandering in the wood, and lost her way. It 
was Summer time, and the air was warm. She 
wandered on and on, trying to find her way 
home, but she could not find the path out of the 
wood. Twilight came, and weary and footsore 
she sat down under a fir tree, and began to cry. 

"Why are you crying, little girl?" said a voice 
behind her. 

Jessie looked around, and saw a pretty little 
man dressed in moss and green leaves. His eyes 
were dark as dark, and his hair was black as black, 
and his mouth was large and showed a hundred 
white teeth as small as seed pearls. He was smiling 
merrily, and his cream-yellow cheeks were dimpled, 
and his eyes soft and kindly. Indeed, he seemed 
so friendly that Jessie quite forgot to be afraid. 

"Why are you crying, little girl?" he asked 
again. "Your tear-drops are falling like dew on 
the blue flowers at your feet!" 

"I've lost my way," sobbed Jessie, "and the 
night is coming on." 

"Do not cry, little girl," said he gently. "I will 
lead you through the wood. I know every path 


— the rabbit's path, the hare's path, the fox's 
path, the goat's path, the path of the deer, and 
the path of men." 

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" exclaimed 
Jessie, as she looked the tiny man up and down, 
and wondered to see his strange clothes. 

"Where do you dwell, little girl?" asked he. 

So Jessie told him, and he said: "You have 
been walking every way but the right way. Fol- 
low me, and you'll reach home before the stars 
come out to peep at us through the trees." 

Then he turned around, and began to trip 
lightly in front of her, and she followed on. He 
went so fast that she feared she might lose sight of 
him, but he turned around again and again and 
smiled and beckoned. And when he saw that she 
was still far behind, he danced and twirled about 
until she came up. Then he scampered on as before. 

At length Jessie reached the edge of the wood, 
and, oh, joy! there was her father's house beside 
the blue lake. Then the little man, smiling, bade 
her good-bye. 

"Have I not led you well?" said he. "Do not 
forget me. I am the Gillie Dhu from Fairyland. 
I love little girls and boys. If you are ever lost 
in the wood again, I will come and help you! 
Good-bye, little girl! Good-bye!" 

And laughing merrily, he trotted away, and 
was soon lost to sight among the trees. 


From New Zealand 

Once upon a time there lived a man named Kahu- 
kura. One evening, when he was on his way to 
a distant village, he came to a lonely spot on 
the seashore. As he was walking slowly along, 
he saw a large pile of the heads and tails of fishes 
lying on the beach. Now, in those days men had 
no nets and were obliged to catch fish with spears 
and hooks; and when Kahukura saw the pile he 
was very much astonished. 

"Who has had such luck!" he exclaimed. "It 
is hard to catch one fish! Here must be the heads 
and tails of a thousand!" 

Then he looked closely at the footprints in the 
sand. "No mortals have been fishing here!" he 
cried. "Fairies must have done this! I will 
watch to-night and see what they do." 

So when darkness came, he returned to the 
spot, and hid behind a rock. He waited a long 
time, and at last he saw a fleet of tiny canoes 
come spinning over the waves. They ranged 
themselves in a line at a distance from the shore, 
and Kahukura could see many little figures in 
them bending and pulling. He could even hear 


small voices shouting: "The net here! The net 
there!" Then the little figures dropped some- 
thing overboard, and began to haul it toward the 
shore, singing very sweetly the while. 

When the canoes drew near land, Kahukura 
saw that each was crowded with Fairies. They 
all sprang out upon the beach, and began to 
drag ashore a great net filled with fishes. 

While the Fairies were struggling with the net 
Kahukura joined them, and hauled away at a 
rope. He was a very fair man, so that his skin 
seemed almost as white as the Fairies', and they 
did not notice him. So he pulled away, and 
pulled away, and soon the net was landed. 

The Fairies ran forward to divide the catch. It 
was just at the peep of dawn, and they hurried 
to take all the fish they could carry, each Fairy 
stringing his share by running a twig through 
the gills. And as they strung the fish they kept 
calling out to one another: — 

"Hurry! hurry! We must finish before the 
sun rises." 

Kahukura had a short string with a knot in 
the end, and he strung his share on it, until it 
was filled. But when he lifted the string the knot 
gave way, and all the fish slid to the ground. Then 
some of the Fairies ran forward to help him, and 
tied the knot. Again he filled the string and all the 
fish slid off, and again the Fairies tied the knot. 


Meanwhile day began to break over the sea, 
and the sun to rise. Then the Fairies saw Kahu- 
kura's face, and knew that he was a man. They 
gave little cries of terror. They ran this way and 
that in confusion. They left their fish and canoes, 
they abandoned their net. And shrieking they 
all vanished over the sea. 

Kahukura, seeing that he was alone, made 
haste to examine the canoes. They were only the 
stems of flax ! He lifted the net. It was woven of 
rushes curiously tied. He carried it home, and 
made some like it for his neighbours. After that 
he taught his children how to weave nets. And 
so, say the Maori folk, they all learned to make 
nets. And from that day to this they have caught 
many fish. 


From the Island of Mangaia 

In the very long ago, Rangi the Brave came from 
the Land-of-the-Bright-Parrot-Feathers to the 
Island of Mangaia. Swiftly over the blue waves 
sped his canoe. He stepped out upon the land, 
and lay down to rest in the shade of a broad- 
leaved tree covered with gorgeous blooms. And 
after he had slept and was refreshed, he arose and 
wandered about the island. 

Beautiful was the place with cocoa palms wav- 
ing their tall fronds in the air, and with banana 
trees heavy with golden fruit. But though Rangi 
walked all that day and the next, he saw no hu- 
man being. He heard no sounds except the beat 
of the sea against the shore, and the whirring of 
hundreds of bright-winged birds that passed like 
flashes of blue, green, and crimson, from tree to 
tree, and from grove to grove. Softly the per- 
fumed breezes fanned his cheek, and played in 
his hair. 

"Like a lovely dream is this island!" thought 
he, "but as lonely as the sea on a moonlit 

Then to comfort himself he threw back his 
head and called: "Halloo! Halloo!" 


And from a pile of rocks overhanging a deep 
gorge, a voice answered: "Halloo!" 

"Who art thou?" cried Rangi in wonder. 
"What is thy name?" 

And the voice answered more softly: "What 
is thy name?" 

"Where art thou? Where art thou hidden?" 
he shouted. 

And the voice answered mockingly: "Where 
art thou hidden?" 

Then Rangi in anger shouted fiercely: "Ac- 
cursed be thou, hide-and-seek spirit!" 

And the voice screamed back as if in derision : 
"Accursed be thou!" 

Thereupon Rangi grasped his spear tighter, 
and strode toward the rocks, determined to 
punish the insolent one. Leaping from boulder 
to boulder, he entered the gorge. And ever 
as he proceeded, he shouted threats; and ever 
the mocking voice answered from some distant 

The gorge grew darker and narrower, until 
Rangi suddenly found himself in a wide-mouthed 
cavern. Its walls and roof glittered with pend- 
ant crystals from which fell, drop by drop, clear 
water like dew. A w T hite mist rose from the 
rocky floor, and through it Rangi saw dimly a 
lovely Fairy face gazing roguishly at him. It 
was wreathed in rippling hair, and crowned with 


flowers. Archly it smiled, then melted away in 
the mist. 

"Who art thou?" whispered Rangi in awe. 
"Art thou Echo indeed?" 

And from the glittering walls and roof came a 
thousand sweet answers: — 

"Echo indeed!" 


Among the Isles of the Golden Mist, 

I lived for many a year; 
And all that chanced unto me there 

'T is well that ye should hear. 

I dwelt in a hall of silvery pearl, 

With rainbow-light inlaid; 
I sate on a throne, old as the sea, 

Of the ruby coral made. 

They made me King of the Fairy Isles, 

That lie in the Golden Mist, 
Where the coral rocks and the silvery sand 

By singing waves are kissed. 

Far off, in the ocean solitudes, 

They lie, a glorious seven; 
Like a beautiful group of sister stars, 

In the untraced heights of heaven. 

Oh, beautiful Isles ! where the coral rocks 
Like an ancient temple stand, 

Like a temple of wondrous workmanship 
For a lofty worship planned ! 


Oh, beautiful Isles! And a Fairy race, 

As the dream of a poet, fair, 
Now hold the place by a charmed spell, 

With power o'er sea and air. 

Their boats are made of the large pearl-shell 

That the waters cast to land; 
With carved prows more richly wrought 

Than works of mortal hand. 

They skim along the silver waves 

Without or sail or oar; 
Whenever the Fairy voyager would, 

The pearl-ship comes to shore. 

I loved that idle life for a time; 

But when that time was by, 
I pined again for another change, 

For the love in a human eye. 

They brought me then a glorious form, 

And gave her for my bride; 
I looked on her, and straight forgot 

That I was to earth allied. 

For many a year and more, I dwelt 

In those Isles of soft delight; 
Where all was kind and beautiful, 

With neither death nor night. 


We danced on the sands when the silver moon 
Through the coral arches gleamed, 

And pathways broad of glittering light 
O 'er the azure waters streamed. 

Then shot forth many a pearly boat, 

Like stars, across the sea; 
And songs were sung, and shells were blown 

That set wild music free. 

For many a year and more, I dwelt 

With neither thought nor care, 
Till I forgot almost my speech, 

Forgot both creed and prayer. 

At length it chanced that as my boat 

Went on its charmed way, 
I came unto the veil of mist 

Which round the Seven Isles lay. 

Even then it was a Sabbath morn; 

A ship was passing by, 
And I heard a hundred voices raise 

A sound of psalmody. 

A mighty love came o'er my heart, 

A yearning toward my kind, 
And unwittingly I spoke aloud 

The impulse of my mind. 


"Oh, take me hence, ye Christian men!" 
I cried in spiritual want; 
Anon the Golden Mist gave way, 
That had been like adamant. 

The little boat wherein I sate 

Seemed all to melt away; 
And I was left upon the sea, 

Like Peter, in dismay. 

Those Christian mariners, amazed, 

Looked on me in affright; 
Some cried I was an evil Ghost, 

And some a Water-Sprite. 

But the chaplain seized the vessel's boat, 
With mercy prompt and boon, 

And took me up into the ship 
As I fell into a swoon. 

In vain I told of what had happed; 

No man to me would list; 
They jested at the Fairy Isles, 

And at the Golden Mist. 

They swore I was a shipwrecked man, 

Tossed on the dreary main; 
And pitied me, because they thought 

My woes had crazed my brain. 


And soon a wondrous thing I saw; 

I now was old and gray, 
A man of threescore years and ten, — 

A weak man in decay! 

And yesterday, and I was young! 

Time did not leave a trace 
Upon my form, whilst I abode 

Within the charmed place! 

Mary Howitt (Condensed) 


But we tliat live in Fairyland 

No sickness know, nor pain; 
I quit my body when I will, 

And take to it again. 

Our shapes and size we can convert 

To either large or small, 
An old nut-shell *s the same to us 

As is the lofty IwU. 

We sleep in rose-buds soft and sweet, 

We revel in the stream, 
We wanton lightly on the wind, 

Or glide on a sunbeam. 

Old Ballad 


From Cornwall 

Not many years since there lived in Cornwall 
a pretty young girl named Cherry. As she and 
her mother were poor, Cherry determined to go 
out to service. So one morning early, she took 
her little bundle of clothes, and started out to 
find a place with some respectable family. She 
walked until she came to four cross-roads, and, 
not knowing which to follow, she sat down on a 
boulder to think. 

The spot where she sat was covered with beau- 
tiful ferns that curled their delicate fronds over 
the boulder. And while she was lost in thought, 
she unconsciously picked a few fronds and crushed 
them in her hand. 

Immediately she heard a strange voice at her 
elbow say: — 

"My pretty young woman, what are you look- 
ing for?" 

She glanced up, and saw standing near her a 
handsome young man, who was holding a bunch 
of the ferns. 

"I am looking for a place, sir," said she. 

"And what kind of a place do you wish?" 
asked he, with a sweet and winning smile. 


"I am not particular," answered she. "I can 
make myself generally useful." 

"Indeed!" said the stranger. "And do you 
think you could look after one little boy?" 

"That I'd love to do!" said she, smiling. 

"Then," replied he, "I wish to hire you for a 
year and a day. My home is not far from here. 
Will you go with me, Cherry, and see it?" 

Cherry stared in astonishment to hear him 
speak her name; and he added: — 

"Oh! I see you thought that I did not know 
you! I watched you one day while you were 
dressing your hair beside one of my ponds; and I 
saw you pluck some of my sweetest-scented vio- 
lets to put in those lovely tresses! But will you 
go with me, Cherry?" 

"For a year and a day?" asked she. 

"You need not be alarmed," said he very 

kindly. "Just kiss the fern leaf that is in your 

hand, and say : — 

'For a year and a day 
I promise to stay 1 ' " 

"Is that all!" said Cherry. So she kissed the 
fern leaf, and said the words as he told her 

Instantly the young man passed the buneh of 
ferns that he held over both her eyes. The ground 
in front of her seemed to open; and, though she 
did not feel herself move from the boulder where 


she sat, yet she knew that she was going down 
rapidly into the earth. 

"Here we are, Cherry/' said the young man. 
" Is there a tear of sorrow under your eyelid? If 
so, let me wipe it away, for no human tear can 
enter our dwelling." 

And as he spoke he brushed Cherry's eyes with 
the fern leaves. And, lo! before her was such a 
country as she had never dreamed of! 

Hills and valleys were covered with flowers 
strangely brilliant, so that the whole country ap- 
peared to be sown with gems that glittered in 
a light as clear as that of the Summer sun, yet 
as mild as moonshine. There were glimmering 
rivers, and singing waterfalls, and sparkling 
fountains; while everywhere beautiful little ladies 
and gentlemen, dressed in green and gold, were 
walking, or sitting on banks of flowers. Oh! it 
was a wonderful world! 

"Here we are at home!" said the young man — 
and strangely enough he was changed! He had 
become the handsomest little man Cherry had 
ever seen, and he wore a green silk coat covered 
with spangles of gold. 

He led her into a noble mansion, the furniture 
of which was of ivory and pearl, inlaid with gold 
and silver and studded with emeralds. After 
passing through many rooms they came to one 
whose walls were hung with lace as fine as the 


finest cobwebs, and most beautifully twined with 
flowers. In the middle of the room was a cradle 
of wrought sea-shell, reflecting so many colours 
that Cherry could scarcely bear to look at it. 
The little man led her to this, and in it was lying 
asleep a little boy so beautiful that he ravished 
the sight. 

"This is your charge," said the little man. "I 
am King of this country, and I wish my son to 
know something of human nature. You have 
nothing to do but to wash and dress the boy 
when he wakes, to take him walking in the gar- 
den, to tell him stories, and to put him to sleep 
when he is weary." 

Cherry was delighted beyond words, for at 
first sight she loved the darling little boy. And 
when he woke, he seemed to love her just as 
dearly. She was very happy, and cared tenderly 
for him; and the time passed away with aston- 
ishing rapidity. In fact it seemed scarcely a week 
later, when she opened her eyes and found every- 
thing about her changed. Indeed, there she was 
lying in her own bed in her mother's cottage! 

She heard her mother calling her name with 
joy; and the neighbours came crowding around 
her bed. It was just one year and a day from the 
time when she had sat on the boulder, and had 
met the fine young man. She told her adventures 
to all, but they would not believe her. They shook 


their heads and went away, saying: "Poor Cherry 
is certainly mad!" 

From that day on, she was never happy, but 
sat pining, and dreaming of the hour when she 
had picked the magic ferns. And though she 
often went back to the boulder, she never again 
saw the young man, nor found the way to Fairy- 


From Scotland 

Years ago there lived in Scotland an honest, 
hard-working smith. He had only one child, a 
boy, fourteen years of age, cheerful, strong, and 

Suddenly the boy fell ill. He took to his bed, 
and moped away whole days. No one could tell 
what was the matter with him. Although he had 
a tremendous appetite, he wasted away, getting 
thin, yellow, and old. 

At last one morning,, while the smith was stand- 
ing idly at his forge, with no heart for work, he 
was surprised to see a Wise-man, who lived at 
some distance, enter his shop. The smith has- 
tened to tell him about his son, and to ask his 

The Wise-man listened gravely, then said: 
"The boy has been carried away by the Little 
People, and they have left a Changeling in his 

"Alas! And what am I to do?" asked the 
smith. "How am I ever to see my own son 

"I will tell you how," answered the Wise-man. 
"But first, to make sure that it is not your own 


son you have, gather together all the egg-shells 
you can get. Go into the room where the boy 
is, and spread them out carefully before him. 
Then pour water in them, and carry them care- 
fully in your hands, two by two. Carry them as 
though they were very heavy, and arrange them 
around the fireplace." 

The smith, accordingly, collected as many 
egg-shells as he could find. He went into the 
room, and did as the Wise-man had said. 

He had not been long at work, before there 
came from the bed where the boy lay, a great 
shout of laughter, and the boy cried out: — 

"I am now eight hundred years old, and I have 
never seen the like of that before!" 

The smith hurried back, and told this to the 

"Did I not assure you," said the Wise-man, 
"that it is not your son whom you have? Your 
son is in a Fairy Mound not far from here. Get 
rid as soon as possible of this Changeling, and I 
think I may promise you your son again. 

"You must fight a very great and bright fire 
before the bed on which this stranger is lying. 
He will ask you why you are doing so. Answer 
him at once: 'You shall see presently when I lay 
you upon it.' If you do this, the Changeling will 
become frightened and fly through the roof." 

The smith again followed the Wise-man's ad- 


vice; kindled a blazing fire, and answered as he 
had been told to do. And, just as he was going 
to seize the Changeling and fling him on the fire, 
the thing gave an awf ill yell, and sprang through 
the roof. 

The smith, overjoyed, returned to the Wise- 
man, and told this to him. 

"On Midsummer Night/ 5 said the Wise-man, 
"the Fairy Mound, where your boy is kept, will 
open. You must provide yourself with a dirk 
and a crowing cock. Go to the Mound. You will 
hear singing and dancing and much merriment 
going on. At twelve o'clock a door in the Mound 
will open. Advance boldly. Enter this door, but 
first stick the dirk in the ground before it, to 
prevent the Mound from closing. You will find 
yourself in a spacious apartment, beautifully 
clean; and there working at a forge, you will see 
your son. The Fairies will then question you, 
and you must answer that you have come for 
your son, and will not go without him. Do this, 
and see w T hat happens!" 

Midsummer Night came, and the smith pro- 
vided himself with a dirk and a crowing cock. 
He went to the Fairy Mound, and all happened 
as the Wise-man had said. 

The Fairies came crowding around him, buzz- 
ing and pinching his legs; and when he said that 
he had come for his son, and would not go away 


without him, they all gave a loud laugh. At the 
same minute the cock, that was dozing in the 
smith's arms, woke up. It leaped to his shoulder, 
and, clapping its wings, crowed loud and long. 

At that the Fairies were furious. They seized 
the smith and his son and threw them out of the 
Mound, and pulled up the dirk and flung it after 
them. And in an instant all was dark. 

For a year and a day the boy never spoke, nor 
would he do a turn of work. At last one morning 
as he was watching his father finish a sword, he 
exclaimed : — 

"That's not the way to do it!" 

And taking the tools from his father's hands, 
he set to work, and soon fashioned a glittering 
sharp sword, the like of which had never been 
seen before. 

From that day on, the boy helped his father, 
and showed him how to make Fairy swords, and 
in a few years they both became rich and famous. 
And they always lived together contentedly and 


From England 

Late one night — a bright, quiet, moonlit night 
— old Dame Moll lay snugly sleeping in her bed, 
when suddenly she was wakened by a noise like 
a rushing storm. The next minute there came a 
loud rap! rap! rap! at her cottage door. 

Startled and frightened she sprang out of bed, 
and opened the door on a crack. 

"Don't be afraid, good woman/' said a 
sqiieaky voice. "Open wide! Open wide!" 

So she opened a bit wider, and saw a strange, 
squint-eyed, ugly little fellow standing on the 
door-stone. Somehow the look in his eyes seemed 
to cast a spell over her, and made her, willy-nilly, 
open the door very wide. 

"My wife has sent for you, good woman/' 
said he. "You must come with me and bathe 
and dress our new-born child." 

"Your wife!" thought the poor Dame. 
"Heaven defend me! Sure as I live I am going 
to care for a little Imp!" 

But she could not refuse to go, for the spell in 
the little man's eyes drew her, and she was forced 
to walk toward a coal-black steed that stood 
snorting before the door. Its eyes were red-hot 
balls, and its breath was like smoke. 


And how Dame Moll got to the place she never 
could tell. But suddenly she found herself set 
down by a neat but poor cottage, and saw two 
tidy children playing before the door. In a minute 
she was seated in front of a roaring hearth-fire, 
washing and dressing a small baby. But a very 
active and naughty baby it was, though only an 
hour old; for it lifted its fist and gave the good 
Dame such a rousing box on her ear, that it made 
her head ring. 

"Anoint its eyes with this salve, my good 
woman," said the mother, who was lying in a 
neat white bed. 

So Dame Moll took the box of salve, and 
rubbed a bit on the child's eyes. 

"Why not a drop on mine," thought she, 
"since it must be Elfin ointment." So she rubbed 
her finger over her right eye. 

O ye powers of Fairyland! What did she see! 

The neat but homely cottage had become a 
great and beautiful room. The mother, dressed 
in white silk, lay in an ivory bed. The babe was 
robed in silvery gauze. The two older children, 
who had just come into the cottage, were seated 
one on either side of the mother's pillow. But 
they, too, were changed! For now they were 
little flat-nosed Imps who, with mops and mows, 
and with many a grin and grimace, were pulling 
the mother's ears with their long, hairy paws. 


When Dame Moll saw this, she knew that she 
was fn a place of enchantment, and without say- 
ing a word about having anointed her own eye, 
she made haste to finish dressing the Elfin babe. 

Then the squint-eyed little old fellow once 
more placed her behind him on the coal-black 
steed, and away they went sailing through the 
air. And he set her down safely before her door. 

On the next market-day, when Dame Moll was 
selling eggs, what did she see but the little old 
fellow himself busied, like a rogue, stealing some 
things from the market-stalls. 

"Oh! Ho!" cried she; "I've caught you, you 

"What!" exclaimed he. "Do you see me to- 

"See you! To be sure I do! — as plain as the 
sun in the sky! And I see you very busy stealing, 
into the bargain!" 

"With which eye do you see me?" said he. 

"With my right eye, to be sure," answered 
Dame Moll. 

"The ointment! The ointment!" exclaimed 
the little man. "Take that for meddling with 
what did not belong to you!" 

And he struck her in the eye as he spoke. And 
from that day to this old Dame Moll has been 
blind in the right eye. And surely it served her 
right for stealing the Fairy ointment. 


From Ireland 

Never go near an Elfin Mound on May Day. 
For in the month of May the Fairies are very 
powerful, and they wander about the meadows 
looking for pretty maidens to carry off to Fairy- 

One beautiful May Day in old Ireland, a 
young girl fell asleep at noonday on an Elfin 
Mound. The Fairies saw how pretty she was, 
so they carried her off to Fairyland, and left in 
her stead an image that looked exactly like her. 

Evening fell, and as the girl did not return 
home, her mother sent the neighbours to look 
for her in all directions. They found the image, 
and, thinking that it was the girl herself, they 
carried it home, and laid it in her bed. But the 
image neither moved nor spoke, and lay there 
silently for two days. 

On the morning of the third day an old Witch- 
woman entered the house, and looking at the 
image, said: — 

"Your daughter is Fairy-struck. Rub this 
ointment on her forehead, and see what you shall 


Then the old woman placed a vial of green 
ointment in the mother's hand, and disappeared. 

The mother immediately rubbed the forehead 
of the image, and the girl herself sat up in bed, 
weeping and wringing her hands. 

"Oh, mother!" she cried. "Oh, why did you 
bring me back! I was so happy! I was in a 
beautiful palace where handsome Princesses and 
Princes were dancing to the sweetest music. 
They made me dance with them, and threw a 
mantle of rich gold over my shoulders. Now it is 
all gone, and I shall never see the beautiful pal- 
ace any more!" 

Then the mother wept, and said: "Oh, my 
child, stay with me! I have no other daughter 
but you ! And if the Fairies take you, I shall die ! " 

The girl wept loudly at this, and throwing her 
arms around her mother's neck, kissed her, and 
promised that she would not go near the Elfin 
Mound. And she kept her word, so she never 
saw the Fairies again. 


From Ireland 

One must never wander about alone on Hal- 
lowe'en, for then the Fairies are abroad looking 
for mortals to trick and lead astray. 

Now, there was once a girl, the prettiest girl 
in all Ireland, who late one Hallowe'en was going 
to a spring to fetch some water. Her foot slipped, 
and she fell. When she got up, she looked about 
her, and saw that she was in a very strange place. 
A great fire was burning near, around which 
a number of people, beautifully dressed, were 

A handsome young man, like a Prince, with a 
red sash, and a golden band in his hair, left the 
fire, and came toward her. He greeted her kindly, 
and asked her to dance. 

"It is a foolish thing, sir, to ask me to dance," 
replied she, "since there is no music." 

At that the young man lifted his hand, and 
instantly the most delicious music sounded. 
Then he took her by the fingers and drew her into 
the dance. Around and around they whirled, 
and they danced and danced until the moon and 
stars went down. And all the time, the girl 


seemed to float in the air, and she forgot every- 
thing except the sweet music and the young 

At last the dancing ceased, and a door opened 
in the earth. The young man, who seemed to be 
the King of all, led the girl down a pair of stairs, 
followed by all the gay company. At the end 
of a long passage they came to a hall bright and 
beautiful with gold and silver and lights. A table 
was covered with every good thing to eat, and 
wine was poured out in golden cups. 

The young man lifted a cup, and offered it to 
the girl; at the same moment some one whispered 
in her ear: — 

"Do not drink! Do not eat! If you do either, 
you will never see your home again!" 

Well, the girl, when she heard that, set the cup 
down and refused to drink. Immediately all the 
company grew angry. A great buzzing arose. 
The lights went out. And the girl felt something 
grasp her, and rush her forth from the hall and 
up the stairs; and in a minute she found her- 
self beside the spring holding her pitcher in her 

She did not wait for anything, but ran home 
as fast as she could, and locked herself in tight, 
and crept into bed. Then she heard a great 
clamour of little voices outside her door, and she 
could hear them cry: — 


"The power we had over you to-night is gone, 
because you refused to drink! But wait until 
next Hallowe'en Night, when you dance with 
us on the hill ! Then we shall keep you forever! — 


From Wales 

Once upon a time, in the land of Wales, near the 
fall of the Tawe into the sea, there lived a boy 
called Elidore. He was a bright lad, but so fond 
of play that he would not study at all. His 
teacher flogged him so often and so hard that one 
morning Elidore ran away from home, and hid 
under a hollow bank by the side of the river. 

There he stayed two nights and two days, get- 
ting hungrier and thirstier every moment. At 
last, when it seemed as if he could stand his suf- 
ferings no longer, he saw a little door open in the 
side of the bank and two Elfin Men step out. 
They stood before him, and, bowing low, said : — 

"Come with us, dear boy, and we will lead 
you to a land full of delights and sports, where 
you may play all the time." 

Elidore was overjoyed. He rose and followed 
the Elfin Men through the door. They conducted 
him down a long, dark passage through the hill. 
At length they came out into a beautiful coun- 
try adorned with singing crystal streams and 
flowery meadows. But it was always twilight 
there, for the light of the sun, moon, and stars 
could not reach that land. 

The Elfin Men led Elidore to a golden palace, 


and presented him to the King of the Elves, who 
was seated upon his throne and was surrounded 
by a train of little people richly clad. The King 
questioned Elidore kindly, then, calling his eldest 
son, the Elfin Prince, bade him take the earth- 
boy and make him happy. 

So Elidore dwelt in Elfinland, and day after 
day was fed with milk and saffron; and he played 
with the Elfin Prince, tossing gold and silver balls. 
When he walked in the meadows to pick flowers, 
he saw everywhere about him the Elfin people, 
with long, flowing yellow hair, riding on little 
horses and chasing tiny deer with Fairy hounds. 
For all the people in Elfinland played and rode 
about night and day, and they never worked. 
Sometimes on moonlit nights they rode through 
the dark passage to the upper world, and danced 
in Fairy Rings on the grass. And when they went 
to their dances, they took Elidore with them. 

After Elidore had lived in Elfinland for some 
time, the King permitted him one moonlit night 
to go alone through the dark passage to visit his 
mother. He did so, and she was delighted to see 
him, for she had thought him dead. He told her 
about the wonders of Elfinland, and how he was 
fed on milk and saffron, and played with gold and 
silver toys. She begged him, the next time he 
came, to bring her a bit of Fairy Gold. He prom- 
ised to do so, and returned to Elfinland. 


It so happened, one day soon after this, that 
Elidore was playing with the Elfin Prince. He 
snatched a beautiful golden ball from the Prince's 
hands, and hastened with it through the dark 
passage. As he ran he heard behind him the 
shouts of many angry Elves and the sound of 
their horses' hoofs, and the barking of the Fairy 
dogs; and knew that he was being pursued. 

jFaster he ran in terror, but nearer came the 
patter of a thousand little feet, and the Elfin 
shouts. Still more terrified, he rushed through 
the door in the hill and sped homeward. As he 
sprang into his mother's house his foot caught, 
and he fell over the threshold. At the same mo- 
ment two Elves, who had outrun the others, 
leaped over him and snatched the golden ball 
from his hands. 

"Thief!" "Robber!" "Thief!" they screamed, 
and vanished. 

As for Elidore, he rose up too ashamed to eat 
or sleep that night. The next day he went to the 
river bank and searched for the door, but could 
find no trace of it. And though he searched every 
day for a year, he never again found the en- 
trance to Elfinland. 

But from that time he was a changed boy. He 
studied hard, loved truth, and hated lying and 
stealing. And, when he grew up, he became a 
great man in Wales. 




This is Mab, the mistress Fairy, 
That doth nightly rob the dairy, 
And can hurt or help the churning 
(As she please) without discerning. 
She that pinches country wenches, 
If they rub not clean their benches, 
And with sharper nails remembers 
When they rake not up their embers. 
But, if so they chance to feast her, 
In a shoe she drops a tester. 

Ben Jonson 



Her chariot ready straight is made; 
Each thing therein is fitting laid, 
That she by nothing might be stayed, 

For nought must be her letting: 
Four nimble gnats the horses were, 
Their harnesses of gossamer, 
Fly Cranion, her charioteer, 

Upon the coach-box getting. 


Her chariot of a snail's fine shell, 
Which for the colours did excel; 
The fair Queen Mab becoming well, 

So lively was the limning: 
The seat, the soft wool of the bee, 
The cover (gallantly to see) 
The wing of a pied butterflee; 

I trow 't was simple trimming. 

The wheels composed of crickets' bones, 
And daintily made for the nonce; 
For fear of rattling on the stones, 

With thistle-down they shod it: 
For all her maidens much did fear, 
If Oberon had chanced to hear, 
That Mab his Queen should have been there, 

He would not have abade it. 

She mounts her chariot with a trice, 
Nor would she stay for no advice, 
Until her maids that were so nice, 

To wait on her were fitted, 
But ran herself away alone; 
Which when they heard, there was not one, 
But hasted after to be gone, 

As she had been diswitted. 

Michael Drayton 



Hop, and Mop, and Drop so clear, 
Pip, and Trip, and Skip, that were 
To Mab their sovereign ever dear, 

Her special maids of honour. 
Fib, and Tib, and Pinck, and Pin, 
Tick, and Quick, and Jil, and Jin, 
Tit, and Nit, and Wap, and Win, 

The train that wait upon her. 

Upon a grasshopper they got, 

And, what with amble and with trot, 

For hedge nor ditch they spared not, 

» But after her they hie them. 
A cobweb over them they throw, 
To shield the wind, if it should blow, 
Themselves they wisely could bestows 
Lest any should espy them. 

Michael Drayton 



This palace standeth in the air, 
By necromancy placed there, 
That it no tempests needs to fear, 
Which way so e'er it blow it: 


And somewhat southward tow r ard the noon 
Whence lies a way up to the Moon, 
And thence the Fairy can as soon 
Pass to the earth below it. 

The walls of spiders' legs are made, 
Well morticed and finely laid; 
He was the master of his trade, 

It curiously that builded. 
The windows of the eyes of cats, 
And for the roof, instead of slats, 
Is covered with the skins of bats, 

With moonshine that are gilded. 

Michael Drayton 



I spied King Oberon and his beauteous Queen 

Attended by a nimble-footed train 
Of Fairies tripping o'er the meadow's green, 
And to mewards (methought) they came 
I couched myself behind a bush to spy, 
What would betide the noble company. 

It 'gan to rain, the King and Queen they run 
Under a mushroom, fretted overhead, 


With glowworms artificially done, 

Resembling much the canopy of a bed 

Of cloth of silver: and such glimmering light 
It gave, as stars do in a frosty night. 

Old Poem 



He "put his acorn helmet on; 

It was plumed of the silk of the thistle down; 

The corslet-plate that guarded his breast 

Was once the wild bee's golden vest; 

His cloak, of a thousand mingled dyes, 

Was formed of the wings of butterflies; 

His shield was the shell of a lady-bug queen, 

Studs of gold on a ground of green; 

And the quivering lance which he brandished 

Was the sting of a wasp he had slain in fight. 
Swift he bestrode his fire-fly steed; 

He bared his blade of the bent-grass blue; 
He drove his spurs of the cockle-seed, 

And aw T ay like a glance of thought he flew, 
To skim the heavens, and follow far 
The fiery trail of the rocket-star. 

Joseph Rodman Drake 




Come, follow, follow me, 
You Fairy Elves that be, 
Which circle on the green, 
Come, follow Mab your Queen. 
Hand in hand let's danee around, 
For this plaee is Fairy ground. 

When mortals are at rest 
And snoring in their nest, 
Unheard and unespied, 
Through keyholes we do glide; 
Over tables, stools, and shelves, 
We trip it with our Fairy Elves. 

And if the house be foul 
With platter, dish, or bowl, 
Upstairs we nimbly creep, 
And find the maids asleep : 

There we pinch their arms and thighs; 

None escapes, nor none espies. 

But if the house be swept 
And from uncleanness kept, 
We praise the household maid, 
And duly she is paid; 
For we use before we go 
To drop a tester in her shoe. 


Upon a mushroom's head 

Our table-cloth we spread; 

A grain of rye or wheat 

Is manchet which we eat; 
Pearly drops of dew we drink 
In acorn cups filled to the brink. 

The brains of nightingales, 
With unctuous fat of snails, 
Between two cockles stewed, 
Is meat that's easily chewed; 
Tails of worms and marrow of mice 
Do make a dish that's wondrous nice. 

The grasshopper, gnat, and fly 

Serve for our minstrelsy; 

Grace said, we dance awhile, 

And so the time beguile : 
And if the moon doth hide her head, 
The glow-worm lights us home to bed. 

On tops of dewy grass 

So nimbly do we pass, 

The young and tender stalk 

Ne'er bends when we do walk; 
Yet in the morning may be seen 
Where we the night before have been. 

Old Ballad 



Where the bee sucks, there suck I : 

In a cowslip's bell I lie; 

There I couch, when owls do cry: 

On the bat's back I do fly 

After summer merrily. 

Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, 
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough ! 


From Oberon in Fairyland, 

The King of ghosts and shadows there, 
Mad Robin, I, at his command, 

Am sent to view the night-sports here. 
What revel rout 
Is kept about, 
In every corner where I go, 

I will o'ersee, and merry be, 
And make good sport, with ho! ho! ho! 

More swift than lightning can I fly 

About this airy welkin soon, 
And in a minute's space descry 

Each tiling that's done below the moon. 
There's not a hag 
Or ghost shall wag, 


Or cry, ware Goblins! where I go; 

But Robin, I, their feats will spy, 
And send them home with ho! ho! ho! 

By wells and rills, in meadows green, 

We nightly danee our hey-day guise, 
And to our Fairy King and Queen 
We chant our moonlight minstrelsies. 
When larks 'gin sing, 
Away we fling, 
And babes new-born steal as we go, 
And Elf in bed we leave instead, 
And wend us laughing, ho! ho! ho! 

Old Ballad (Condensed) 



Fairy Godmothers and Wonderful Gifts 

Rap! Rap! Rap! 
"Who's tiding at the pin?'* 
"I 'm your Fairy Godmother. 

Will you let me in?" 

"Pointed red cap, 
Long peaked chin, 
Tivinkling black eyes, 
Why should I let you in f " 

Rap ! Rap ! Rap! — 
"Open wide your door, 
I 'm your Fairy Godmother, 
With gifts three-score!" 




Once upon a time there was a gentleman who 
married for his second wife a woman who was 
the haughtiest and proudest ever seen. She had 
two daughters who resembled her in temper. The 
husband, however, had a young daughter by his 
first wife, who was of a sweetness and goodness 
without limit. She was like her own mother, who 
had been the most sweet-tempered woman in the 

The wedding was no sooner over than the step- 
mother began to show her bad disposition. She 
could not endure the young girl, whose sweet- 
ness made her own daughters seem more detest- 
able. She forced her to do the hardest work in 
the house. It was she who washed the dishes and 
put them in their places. It was she who pol- 
ished the bedroom floors for her stepmother and 
two sisters. She slept under the eaves in a garret, 
on a wretched mattress; while her sisters lay in 
elegant rooms where the beds were soft and white, 
and the walls were lined with long mirrors in which 
the sisters could see themselves from head to foot. 

The poor girl suffered all this with patience. 


And she did not dare complain to her father, for 
he would have scolded her, as he was completely 
governed by his wife. 

Each day, after the girl had finished her work, 
she sat down in the chimney-corner among the 
cinders — so they called her Cinderella. Never- 
theless, Cinderella, in spite of her shabby clothes, 
was more polite and a hundred times more beau- 
tiful than her sisters, although they were magni- 
ficently dressed. 

It happened one day that the King's son gave 
a ball, and that he invited everybody of rank. 
The ugly sisters were also invited, because they 
always made a grand figure at all Court festivi- 
ties. They were very glad at the thought of 
attending the royal ball, and busied themselves 
in choosing the robes and head-dresses which 
should be most becoming. But, alas! it was more 
trouble and work for Cinderella, for it was she 
who did her sisters' ironing, and fluted their 
ruffles. Night and morning, they talked only of 
their clothes. 

"I," said the eldest, "shall wear my red velvet 
robe with rich lace trimming." 

"I," said the younger, "shall have only my 
plain skirt, but to make up for its plainness, I 
shall put on my cloak flowered with gold, and 
my tiara of diamonds." 

They called in Cinderella to ask her advice, 


for she had excellent taste. Cinderella gave 
them the best counsel in the world, and even 
offered to do their hair, for which they were very 
glad. And while she was arranging their locks in 
two rows of puffs, they asked: — 

"Cinderella, would you not be delighted to go 
to the ball?" 

"Alas, you are mocking me!" replied she. "It 
would be no place for me!" 

"You are right," answered the sisters, laugh- 
ing scornfully. "Everybody would laugh well to 
see such a scrub-girl as you at the ball!" 

Any one but Cinderella would have done their 
hair crooked out of rage, but she was so sweet 
that she did her very best. They went two days 
without eating, so excited were they with joy. 
They broke a dozen lacings trying to make their 
waists smaller, and they spent all their time be- 
fore the mirrors. 

At last the happy day arrived, and as they 
departed for the ball, Cinderella followed them 
with her eyes as long as she could. Then she 
burst into tears. 

Her Godmother, who saw her in tears, asked 
what was the matter. 

"I wish — I wish — " and Cinderella sobbed 
so that she could not finish. 

Her Godmother, who was a Fairy, said: "You 
wish to go to the ball, don't you?" 


"Alas! Yes!" sighed Cinderella. 

"Then be a good girl," said her Godmother, 
"and you shall go. Now, run into the garden 
and bring me a pumpkin." 

Cinderella went, and picked the biggest she 
could find; and as she carried it to her God- 
mother, she wondered how that pumpkin could 
help her go to the ball. 

Her Godmother scooped out all the inside, 
leaving only the rind which she struck with her 
wand. Instantly it became a golden coach. Then 
she went to look at the mousetrap in which she 
found six mice. She bade Cinderella open the 
trap, and, as each mouse sprang out, she touehed 
it with her wand. And instantly it was changed 
into a handsome horse. 

As the Godmother was wondering out of what 
to make a coachman, Cinderella said: "I will 
go and see if there is a rat in the trap — then we 
can make a coachman." 

"That is a good thought," said her Godmother, 
"go and see." 

Cinderella brought the trap in which were 
three large rats. Her Godmother chose one of 
the three because of his long whiskers; and when 
she touehed him, he was instantly changed into a 
big coachman who had the handsomest mous- 
taches ever seen. 

Then she said to Cinderella: "Go into the gar- 


den. You will find there six lizards behind the 
watering-pot. Bring thern to me." 

Cinderella had no sooner brought them than 
they were changed into six footmen in gold-laced 
coats, who sprang up behind the coach with the 
air of never having done anything else in their 

Then the Fairy said to Cinderella: "Here is a 
fine coach in which to go to the ball! Are you 
not glad?" 

"Yes," replied she, "but must I go in these 
ugly clothes?" 

Her Godmother, in answer, touched her with 
her wand, and instantly her old clothes were 
changed into robes of gold and silver embroidered 
with gems. Then her Godmother presented her 
with a pair of glass slippers, the prettiest in the 

Now that Cinderella was all dressed, she got 
into the coach; but her Godmother told her above 
all things not to remain a minute later than mid- 
night. For if she remained a single minute longer, 
her coach would become a pumpkin; her horses, 
mice; her coachman, a rat; and her footmen, liz- 
ards; while all her fine clothes would change to 

Cinderella promised her Godmother that she 
would not fail to return before midnight. 

She departed for the ball, so joyful that she 


did not know herself. The King's son, who was 
informed by his servants of the arrival of a 
beautiful Princess whom nobody knew, ran to 
receive her. He assisted her to descend from the 
coach, and led her into the hall where the guests 
were assembled. 

There was a great silence. People stopped 
dancing, and the violins ceased playing, while 
all crowded around to see the beauty of the 
unknown one. Then a confused murmur arose. 
"Oh, how beautiful she is!" The King even, old 
as he was, could not take his eyes off her, and 
he whispered to the Queen that it was long since 
he had seen such a handsome and amiable person. 

All the ladies were anxious to examine her 
head-dress and robes, and they decided to have 
some made like them the very next morning, 
provided, of course, that they could procure 
beautiful enough materials and needlewomen 
sufficiently skilful. 

The King's son led Cinderella to the place of 
honour, and asked her to dance with him. She 
danced with such grace that she was more ad- 
mired than ever. A superb banquet was served, 
but the young Prince did not taste it, so much 
was he occupied in gazing at her. She seated 
herself by her sisters, and showed them a thou- 
sand attentions. She offered them a share of the 
oranges and lemons that the Prince had given 


her, which greatly surprised them, for they did 
not know her. 

While they were chatting, Cinderella heard 
the clock strike a quarter before twelve. She 
immediately bowed to the company, and has- 
tened away as fast as she could. 

When she arrived at home, she found her 
Fairy Godmother, and having thanked her, told 
her how she longed to go again the next night, 
for the Prince had invited her. And while she 
was relating all the things that had happened at 
the ball, she heard the two sisters rap at the 

Cinderella opened it. "How late you are," 
she said. 

"If you had been at the ball," replied one of 
the sisters, "you would not think it late! There 
came the most beautiful Princess you have ever 
dreamed of. She was devoted to us, and gave us 
oranges and lemons." 

Cinderella could scarcely contain herself for 
joy. She asked the name of the Princess. 

"We do not know," they said. "Even the 
King's son is curious to learn who she is." 

Cinderella smiled and said to the elder sister: 
"Was she so beautiful then! How happy you 

The next night the sisters went to the ball. 
Cinderella went, too, even more magnificently 


attired than the first time. The King's son was 
constantly by her side, and never ceased whis- 
pering sweet things. Cinderella was not at all 
weary, and she forgot what her Godmother had 
told her; so that when she heard the first stroke 
of midnight, she could not believe that it was 
more than eleven o'clock. 

She sprang up, and fled as swiftly as a deer. 
The Prince followed her, but could not catch 
her. She lost one of her glass slippers, which he 
tenderly picked up. 

Cinderella reached home breathless, without 
coach or footmen, and clad in rags. Nothing re- 
mained of all her splendour but one little glass 
slipper, for she had dropped the other. 

The Prince's attendants asked the palace 
guards if they had seen a Princess pass by. They 
said that they had seen no one except a poorly 
dressed girl, who looked more like a peasant than 
a Princess. 

When her sisters returned, Cinderella asked 
if they had had a good time again, and if the 
lovely Princess had been present. They said yes, 
but that she had fled as soon as twelve o'clock 
had sounded, and that she had dropped one of 
her little glass slippers — it was the prettiest 
thing! — and that the Prince had picked it up. 
And that he had done nothing but look at it 
for the rest of the night! Assuredly he must be 


very much in love with the Princess to whom it 
belonged ! 

And they were right. A few days after this 
the King's son sent a herald who announced, by 
sound of a trumpet, that the Prince would marry 
any lady whom the glass slipper fitted. 

Then commenced a great trying-on by Prin- 
cesses and Duchesses and all the ladies of the 
Court — but it was of no use. At last they 
brought the glass slipper to the two sisters, who 
did their best to get their feet into it, but they 
could not do so. 

Cinderella, who was looking on and recognized 
her slipper, said smilingly: "Let me see if it will 
fit me." 

Her sisters began to laugh scornfully and to 
ridicule her; but the attendant who held the 
slipper, looking attentively at Cinderella, saw 
that she was very beautiful, and said that she 
had a right to do so, for he had been ordered to 
try the slipper on every girl in the Kingdom. 

He made Cinderella seat herself, and, placing 
the slipper on her little foot, saw that it went on 
easily and fitted her like wax. The amazement 
of the sisters was great, but was greater still 
when Cinderella drew the other slipper from her 
pocket and put it on her other foot. 

Immediately the Fairy Godmother arrived, 
and, having touched Cinderella's clothes with 


her wand, changed them into garments more 
magnificent than those she had worn before. 

Then the tw T o sisters recognized her for the 
beautiful Princess whom they had seen at the 
ball. They threw themselves at her feet, and 
begged forgiveness for the cruel treatment she 
had suffered. Cinderella raised and embraced 
them, and assured them that she pardoned them 
with all her heart, and that she now entreated 
them to love her dearly. 

She was then conducted to the palace of the 
Prince, adorned as she was in all her magnifi- 
cence. The Prince found her more beautiful 
than ever, and a few days after he married her 
with great pomp. 

Cinderella, who was as good as she was beau- 
tiful, lodged her sisters in the palace, and mar- 
ried them on the same day to two great lords of 
the Court. 

Charles Perranlt 


Once upon a time there lived a King and Queen 
who were most miserable because they had no 
children; but when a lovely baby girl was born 
to them, they were two of the happiest people 
in the world. And in order to make all things as 
propitious as possible for the little Princess, they 
invited seven Fairies who lived in the Kingdom, 
to be her Godmothers. 

When the christening ceremony was over, 
there was a magnificent banquet given for the 
Fairies. Before each of them was laid a plate of 
massive gold, and a case — also of massive gold 
— containing a spoon, a fork, and a knife, all 
of the same precious metal, and richly studded 
with diamonds and rubies. 

But just as everybody was seated at the table, 
who should enter but an old Fairy, who had not 
been invited because for more than fifty years 
she had been shut up in a tower, and was sup- 
posed to be either dead or enchanted. 

The King immediately commanded that a 
chair should be placed for her at the table, but 
he could not offer her a golden plate and case, 
for only seven had been made for the seven Fair- 


ies. The unreasonable old creature considered 
herself insulted, and began to mutter frightful 
threats between her teeth. The youngest of the 
Fairies, hearing this, concealed herself behind 
the tapestry, in order to be the last to speak, and 
so perhaps prevent any harm being done to the 
little Princess. 

Meanwhile the Godmothers began to bestow 
their gifts. 

One said: "My Godchild shall be the most 
beautiful girl in the whole world." The second 
added: "And she shall have the disposition of an 
angel." The third said: "I give her the gift of 
perfect grace and graciousness." The fourth 
added: "And she shall dance like a sylph." The 
fifth said: "She shall sing like a nightingale." 
The sixth added: "She shall excel in playing on 
every sort of musical instrument." 

Then came the turn of the old Fairy, who 
screamed like a cockatoo, while her head shook 
more from rage than from age: "The Princess 
shall pierce her hand with a spindle, and shall 

These dreadful words made the whole company 
— every one — shudder; and there was no one 
there who was not drowned in tears. At that 
moment the youngest Fairy appeared from be- 
hind the tapestry, and said sweetly: — 

"Do not weep, Your Majesties, your daughter 


will not die. It is true that I have not power 
enough to entirely undo the evil that my elder 
sister has done. The Princess will hurt her hand 
with a spindle, but, instead of dying, she will fall 
asleep for a hundred years, and then a royal 
Prinee will come and waken her." 

The King, hoping to prevent this calamity, 
forbade any person in the Kingdom either to 
spin or even to keep a spindle in the house. Any 
one who disobeyed was to be punished with 

Sixteen years after this, the King and Queen 
went with their Court to a castle in the country, 
when it happened that the young Princess, wan- 
dering curiously from room to room, mounted to 
the top of a tower. There she found an old woman 
sitting alone before her wheel. This old woman 
had never heard that the King had forbidden 
any one to spin. 

"What are you doing, my good mother?" 
asked the Princess. 

"I am spinning, my beautiful child," answered 
the old woman. 

"Oh, how pretty it is!" exclaimed the Prin- 
cess. "How do you do it? Give that to me, so I 
may see if I can do as well!" 

And as she spoke, she took the spindle so 
eagerly and so quickly, that it pierced her hand, 
and she sank fainting to the floor. The poor old 


woman, in the greatest distress, cried for help. 
People came hurrying from all sides. They 
dashed water on the Princess. They unlaced her 
robes. They bathed her temples with perfumes. 
But she did not move. Then the King, who, 
hearing the commotion, was come into the tow T er- 
room, remembered the malediction of the old 
Fairy. He perceived that the misfortune was a 
thing that had to come about, since the Fairies 
had foretold it. 

He caused the Princess to be carried to the most 
splendid apartment in the castle, and to be laid 
on a couch of down and on pillows of down em- 
broidered with gold and silver. Her eyes were 
closed, but her soft breathing show 7 ed that she 
was not dead. Then, too, her cheeks were flushed 
a delicate rose-colour, and her lips were like 
coral. She seemed a sleeping angel, she was so 

The kind Fairy, who had saved the Princess's 
life, was in the Kingdom of Mataquin, twelve 
thousand miles away, but the King instantly 
sent word of the misfortune, by a little dwarf, 
who travelled in seven-league boots — which are 
boots that pass over seven leagues at each step — 
and she arrived directly at the castle, in a chariot 
of fire drawn by dragons. 

She approved of all that the King had done. 
But being exceedingly wise, she knew that the 


poor Princess would be in a pitiable condition 
when at the end of a hundred years she awoke 
to find herself alone in that old castle. She 
knew of but one thing to do, and she did it. At 
a wave of her wand every one fell asleep — ladies 
of honour, waiting-maids, squires, pages, stew- 
ards, cooks, scullions, porters, footmen, — every 
breathing thing, even the horses in the stables 
with the grooms, the mastiffs in the courtyard, 
and little Pouffi, the Princess's lap dog, who was 
nestling beside her on the couch — all slept. The 
spits full of partridges over the fire, and even the 
fire itself, waited silently to serve their mistress 
when she should wake and need them. 

Only the King and Queen were left to kiss their 
darling child, and go away from the castle. The 
King forbade any one to approach the place, but 
this command was not necessary, for within a 
quarter of an hour there was grown up around 
the castle park, such a vast wood, whose trees, 
great and small, were so interlaced with briars 
and thorns, that neither man nor beast could 
pass through. It was plain that the Fairy had 
arranged matters after Fairy fashion, taking 
care that the young Princess should not be dis- 
turbed while she slept. 

When the hundred years were gone, a King, 
not of the family of the Princess, reigned over 
the land. One day his son was hunting near the 


Fairy wood, and asked what were those turrets 
he saw rising above the trees. People told him 
everything that they had heard. One said that 
it was an enchanted castle. Another said that 
all the witches in the country held their revels 
there. The most common belief, however, seemed 
to be that it was the dwelling-place of an ogre, 
who carried off all the children he could catch, 
and devoured them at his leisure; for no one 
could follow him, as only he could pass through 
the wood. 

While the Prince was lost in wonder at these 
tales, an old peasant approached him, and said: 
"Your Highness, more than fifty years ago I 
heard my father say that in yonder castle was 
the most beautiful Princess on earth, and that she 
would sleep a hundred years and then be wak- 
ened by the son of a King, and that she would 
marry him." 

That was enough to set the Prince on fire for 
the adventure. In fact, he felt in his heart that 
he was the chosen one. He did not delay for an 
instant. No sooner had he taken a step toward 
the wood than the trees great and small, and the 
thorns and briars, disentangled themselves and 
opened a path. 

He walked toward the castle which stood at 
the end of a broad avenue. He saw, with sur- 
prise, that none of his attendants had been able 


to follow him, for the wood had closed again 
behind him; but all the same he went on boldly. 

He entered a spacious outer court, where a 
person less brave than he would have been para- 
lyzed by fear. A deathlike silence reigned, and many 
dead men lay stretched upon the ground. But the 
Prince saw, at a second glance, that the men had 
only the appearance of being dead, that, indeed, 
they were really men-at-arms, who had fallen asleep 
with their half-emptied wine-glasses beside them. 

He ascended the stairway. He entered an ante- 
chamber, where the guard, ranged in line, with 
their muskets on their shoulders, were snoring 
contentedly. He crossed a presence-chamber 
where many lords and ladies were sleeping, some 
standing and some sitting. 

Then he found himself in a magnificent apart- 
ment where on a couch, whose curtains were lifted, 
slept a young Princess as lovely as if she had 
strayed from Paradise! 

The Prince knelt beside her, and pressed his 
lips on her white hand that lay on the coverlet. 
The spell was broken! The Princess opened her 
eyes, and, looking at the Prince as if he was no 
stranger, said : — 

"Is it you, my Prince! I know you, for the 
Fairy has sent me such happy dreams in order 
that I might know the one who should free me 
from enchantment." 


Then they talked together. Each had so much 
to say. The Prince forgot the flight of time, and 
the Princess certainly did, it was so long since 
she had talked with any one. 

Meanwhile the whole castle had awakened when 
the Princess did ; and all the people had returned 
to their regular duties. They were naturally half- 
starved. Dinner was prepared. 

Then the maid of honour, who was as hungry 
as the others, and who really had difficulty to 
keep her voice from being as sharp as her appe- 
tite, went to the Princess's apartment, and said 
in a gentle tone: "Pardon, Your Highness, but 
dinner is served. " 

The Princess was superbly dressed, and the 
Prince was careful not to say that her robe was 
like that of his great-grandmother. He did not 
find her any the less beautiful for all that. They 
dined in the Hall of Mirrors, and were served by 
the pages and ladies-in-waiting of the Princess. 
The violins and hautboys played delightfully 
considering that they had lain untouched for 
a hundred years. After dinner, the Prince and 
Princess were married in the chapel of the cas- 
tle. And on the death of the Prince's father, which 
occurred soon after the marriage, the Prince and 
Princess reigned happily over all that land. 

Charles Perrault 


Long ago there lived a monarch, who was such a 
very honest man that his subjects entitled him 
"the Good King." One day when he was out 
hunting, a little white rabbit, which had been 
half killed by his hounds, leaped right into His 
Majesty's arms. Said he, caressing it, "This 
poor creature has put itself under my protection, 
and I will allow no one to injure it." So he car- 
ried it to his palace, had prepared for it a neat 
little rabbit-hutch, with abundance of the dain- 
tiest food, such as rabbits love, and there he 
left it. 

The same night, when he was alone in his 
chamber, there appeared to him a beautiful lady. 
She was dressed neither in gold nor silver nor 
brocade; but her flowing robes were white as snow, 
and she wore a garland of white roses on her 
head. The Good King was greatly astonished at 
the sight, for his door was locked, and he won- 
dered how so dazzling a lady could possibly en- 
ter; but she soon removed his doubts. 

"I am the Fairy Candide," said she, with a 
smiling and gracious air. "Passing through the 
wood, where you were hunting, I took a desire 
to know if you were as good as men say you are. 


I therefore changed myself into a white rabbit, 
and sought refuge in your arms. You saved me; 
and now I know that those who are merciful to 
dumb beasts will be ten times more so to human 
beings. You merit the name your subjects give 
you: you are the Good King. I thank you for 
your protection, and shall be always one of your 
best friends. You have but to say what you most 
desire, and I promise you your wish shall be 

"Madam," replied the King, "if you are a 
Fairy, you must know, without my telling you, 
the wish of my heart. I have one well-beloved 
son, Prince Ch£ri: whatever kindly feeling you 
have toward me, extend it to him." 

"Willingly," said Candide. "I will make him 
the handsomest, richest, or most powerful Prince 
in the world. Choose whichever you desire for 

"None of the three," returned the father. "I 
only wish him to be good — the best Prince in 
the world. Of what use would riches, power, or 
beauty be to him if he were a bad man?" 

"You are right," said the Fairy; "but I can- 
not make him good: he must do that himself. I 
can only change his external fortunes. For his 
personal character, the utmost I can promise is 
to give good counsel, reprove him for his faults, 
and even punish him, if he will not punish him- 


self. You mortals can do the same with your 

"Ah, yes!" said the King, sighing. 

Still, he felt that the kindness of a Fairy was 
something gained for his son, and died not long 
after, content and at peace. 

Prince Cheri mourned deeply, for he dearly 
loved his father, and would have gladly given all 
his kingdoms and treasures to keep him in life a 
little longer. 

Two days after the Good King was no more, 
Prince Cheri was sleeping in his chamber, when 
he saw the same dazzling vision of the Fairy Can- 

"I promised your father," said she, "to be 
your best friend, and in pledge of this take what 
I now give you." And she placed a small gold 
ring upon his finger. "Poor as it looks, it is more 
precious than diamonds; for whenever you do ill 
it will prick your finger. If after that warning 
you still continue in evil, you will lose my friend- 
ship, and I shall become your direst enemy." 

So saying she disappeared, leaving Cheri in 
such amazement that he would have believed it 
all a dream, save for the ring on his finger. 

He was for a long time so good that the ring 
never pricked him at all; and this made him so 
cheerful and pleasant in his humour that every- 
body called him "Happy Prince Cheri." But 


one unlucky day he was out hunting and found 
no sport, which vexed him so much that he showed 
his ill-temper by his looks and ways. He fancied 
his ring felt very tight and uncomfortable, but 
as it did not prick him, he took no heed of this; 
until, reentering his palace, his little pet dog, 
Bibi, jumped up upon him, and was sharply told 
to get away. The creature, accustomed to noth- 
ing but caresses, tried to attract his attention 
by pulling at his garments, when Prince Cheri 
turned and gave it a severe kick. At this mo- 
ment he felt in his finger a prick like a pin. 

"What nonsense!" said he to himself. "The 
Fairy must be making game of me. Why, what 
great evil have I done? I, the master of a great 
empire, cannot I kick my own dog?" 

A voice replied, or else Prince Cheri imagined it: 
"No, sire; the master of a great empire has a right 
to do good, but not evil. I — a Fairy — am as 
much above you as you are above your dog. I 
might punish you, kill you, if I chose; but I pre- 
fer leaving you to amend your ways. You have 
been guilty of three faults to-day — bad temper, 
passion, cruelty. Do better to-morrow." 

The Prince promised, and kept his word awhile; 
but he had been brought up by a foolish nurse, 
who indulged him in every way, and was always 
telling him that he would be a King one day, 
when he might do as he liked in all things. He 


found out now that even a King cannot always 
do that; it vexed him, and made him angry. 
His ring began to prick him so often that his lit- 
tle finger was continually bleeding. He disliked 
this, as was natural, and soon began to consider 
whether it would not be easier to throw the ring 
away altogether than to be constantly annoyed 
by it. It was such a queer thing for a King to 
have always a spot of blood on his finger! 

At last, unable to put up with it any more, he 
took his ring off, and hid it where he would never 
see it; and believed himself the happiest of men, 
for he could now do exactly what he liked. He 
did it, and became every day more and more 

One day he saw a young girl, so beautiful that, 
being always accustomed to have his own way, 
he immediately determined to marry her. He 
never doubted that she would be only too glad 
to be made a Queen, for she was very poor. But 
Zelia — that was her name — answered, to his 
great astonishment, that she would rather not 
marry him. 

"Do I displease you?" asked the Prince, into 
whose mind it had never entered that he could 
displease anybody. 

"Not at all, my Prince," said the honest peas- 
ant-maiden. "You are very handsome, very 
charming; but you are not like your father the 


Good King. I will not be your Queen, for you 
would make me miserable." 

At these words the Prince's love seemed all 
to turn to hatred. He gave orders to his guards 
to convey Zelia to a prison near the palace, and 
then took counsel with his foster-brother, the one 
of all his ill companions who most incited him 
to do wrong. 

"Sir," said this man, "if I were in Your 
Majesty's place, I would never vex myself about 
a poor silly girl. Feed her on bread and water till 
she comes to her senses; and if she still refuses 
you, let her die in torment, as a warning to your 
other subjects should they venture to dispute 
your will. You will be disgraced should you suf- 
fer yourself to be conquered by a simple girl." 

"But," said Prince Cheri, "shall I not be dis- 
graced if I harm a creature so perfectly inno- 

"No one is innocent who disputes Your 
Majesty's authority," said the courtier, bowing; 
"and it is better to commit an injustice than 
allow it to be supposed you can ever be contra- 
dicted with impunity." 

This touched Cheri on his weak point — his 
good impulses faded. He resolved once more to 
ask Zelia if she would marry him, and, if she 
again refused, to sell her as a slave. Arrived at 
the cell in which she was confined, what was his 


astonishment to find her gone! He knew not 
whom to accuse, for he had kept the key in his 
pocket the whole time. At last, the foster-brother 
suggested that the escape of Zelia might have 
been contrived by an old man, Suliman by name, 
the Prince's former tutor, who was the only one 
who now ventured to blame him for anything 
that he did. Cheri sent immediately, and ordered 
his old friend to be brought to him, loaded heav- 
ily with irons. 

Then, full of fury, he went and shut himself 
up in his own chamber, where he went raging to 
and fro, till startled by a noise like a clap of 
thunder. The Fairy Candide stood before him. 

"Prince," said she, in a severe voice, "I prom- 
ised your father to give you good counsels, and 
to punish you if you refused to follow them. My 
counsels were forgotten, my punishments de- 
spised. Under the figure of a man, you have been 
no better than the beasts you chase: like a lion 
in fury, a wolf in gluttony, a serpent in revenge, 
and a bull in brutality. Take, therefore, in your 
new form the likeness of all these animals." 

Scarcely had Prince Cheri heard these words, 
than to his horror he found himself transformed 
into what the Fairy had named. He was a crea- 
ture with the head of a lion, the horns of a bull, 
the feet of a wolf, and the tail of a serpent. At 
the same time he felt himself transported to a 


distant forest, where, standing on the bank of 
a stream, he saw reflected in the water his own 
frightful shape, and heard a voice saying: — 

"Look at thyself, and know thy soul has be- 
come a thousand times uglier even than thy 

Cheri recognized the voice of Candide, and in 
his rage would have sprung upon her and de- 
voured her; but he saw nothing, and the same 
voice said behind him : — 

"Cease thy feeble fury, and learn to conquer 
thy pride by being in submission to thine own 

Hearing no more, he soon quitted the stream, 
hoping at least to get rid of the sight of himself; 
but he had scarcely gone twenty paces when he 
tumbled into a pitfall that was laid to catch 
bears. The bear-hunters, descending from some 
trees hard by, caught him, chained him, and 
only too delighted to get hold of such a curious- 
looking animal, led him along with them to the 
capital of his own Kingdom. 

There great rejoicings were taking place, and 
the bear-hunters, asking what it was all about, 
were told that it was because Prince Cheri, the 
torment of his subjects, had been struck dead 
by a thunderbolt — just punishment of all his 
crimes. Four courtiers, his wicked companions, 
had wished to divide his throne among them; 


but the people had risen up against them, and 
offered the crown to Suliinan, the old tutor whom 
Cheri had ordered to be arrested. 

All this the poor monster heard. He even saw 
Suliman sitting upon his own throne, and trying 
to calm the populace by representing to them 
that it was not certain Prince Cheri was dead; 
that he might return one day to reassume with 
honour the crown which Suliman only consented 
to wear as a sort of viceroy. 

"I know his heart," said the honest and faith- 
ful old man; "it is tainted, but not corrupt. If 
alive, he may reform yet, and be all his father 
over again to you, his people,* whom he has 
caused to suffer so much." 

These words touched the poor beast so deeply 
that he ceased to beat himself against the iron 
bars of the cage in which the hunters carried him 
about, became gentle as a lamb, and suffered 
himself to be taken quietly to a menagerie, where 
were kept all sorts of strange and ferocious ani- 
mals — a place which he had himself often 
visited as a boy, but never thought he should 
be shut up there himself. 

However, he owned he had deserved it all, and 
began to make amends by showing himself very 
obedient to his keeper. This man was almost as 
great a brute as the animals he had charge of, 
and when he was in ill-humour he used to beat 


them without rhyme or reason. One day, while 
he was sleeping, a tiger broke loose and leaped 
upon him, eager to devour him. Cheri at first 
felt a thrill of pleasure at the thought of being 
revenged; then, seeing how helpless the man was, 
he wished himself free, that he might defend him. 
Immediately the doors of his cage opened. 

The keeper, waking up, saw the strange beast 
leap out, and imagined, of course, that he was 
going to be slain at once. Instead, he saw the 
tiger lying dead, and the strange beast creeping 
up and laying itself at his feet to be caressed. But 
as he lifted up his hand to stroke it, a voice 
was heard saying, "Good actions never go unre- 
warded." And, instead of the frightful monster, 
there crouched on the ground nothing but a pretty 
little dog. 

Cheri, delighted to find himself thus trans- 
formed, caressed the keeper in every possible 
way, till at last the man took him up into his 
arms and carried him to the King, to whom he 
related this wonderful story from beginning to 
end. The Queen wished to have the charming 
little dog; and Cheri would have been exceedingly 
happy, could he have forgotten that he was 
originally a man and a King. He was lodged 
most elegantly, had the richest of collars to adorn 
his neck, and heard himself praised continually. 
But his beauty rather brought him into trouble, 


for the Queen, afraid lest he might grow too 
large for a pet, took advice of dog-doctors, who 
ordered that he should be fed entirely upon bread, 
and that very sparingly; so poor Cheri was some- 
times nearly starved. 

One day, when they gave him his crust for 
breakfast, a fancy seized him to go and eat it in the 
palace-garden; so he took the bread in his mouth, 
and trotted away toward a stream which he 
knew, and where he sometimes stopped to drink. 
But instead of the stream he saw a splendid pal- 
ace, glittering with gold and precious stones. 
Entering the doors was a crowd of men and 
women, magnificently dressed; and within there 
was singing and dancing, and good cheer of all 
sorts. Yet, however grandly and gaily the people 
went in, Cheri noticed that those who came out 
were pale, thin, ragged, half-naked, covered with 
wounds and sores. Some of them dropped dead 
at once; others dragged themselves on a little way 
and then lay down, dying of hunger, and vainly 
begged a morsel of bread from others who were 
entering in — who never took the least notice of 

Ch6ri perceived one woman, who was trying 
feebly to gather and eat some green herbs. "Poor 
thing!" said he to himself; "I know what it is 
to be hungry, and I want my breakfast badly 
enough; but still it will not kill me to wait till 


dinner-time, and my crust may save the life of 
this poor woman." 

So the little dog ran up to her, and dropped his 
bread at her feet; she picked it up, and ate it with 
avidity. Soon she looked quite recovered, and 
Cheri, delighted, was trotting back again to his 
kennel, when he heard loud cries, and saw a young 
girl dragged by four men to the door of the palace, 
which they were trying to compel her to enter. 
Oh, how he wished himself a monster again, as 
when he slew the tiger! For the young girl was 
no other than his beloved Zelia. Alas! what could 
a poor little dog do to defend her? But he ran 
forward and barked at the men and bit their 
heels, until at last they chased him aw T ay with 
heavy blows. And then he lay down outside the 
palace-door, determined to watch and see what 
had become of Zelia. 

Conscience pricked him now. "What!" he 
thought, "I am furious against these wicked 
men, who are carrying her away; and did I not 
do the same myself? Did I not cast her into 
prison, and intend to sell her as a slave? Who 
knows how much more wickedness I might not 
have done to her and others, if Heaven's justice 
had not stopped me in time?" 

While he lay thinking and repenting, he heard 
a window open, and saw Zelia throw out of it 
a bit of dainty meat. Cheri, who felt hungry 


enough by this time, was just about to eat it, 
when the woman to whom he had given his crust 
snatched him up in her arms. 

"Poor little beast!" cried she, patting him, 
"every bit of food in that palace is poisoned; 
you shall not touch a morsel." 

And at the same time the voice in the air re- 
peated again, "Good actions never go unre- 
warded." And Cheri found himself changed into 
a beautiful little white pigeon. He remembered 
with joy that white was the colour of the Fairy 
Candide, and began to hope that she was taking 
him into favour again. 

So he stretched his wings, delighted that he 
might now have a chance of approaching his fair 
Zelia. He flew up to the palace windows, and, 
finding one of them open, entered and sought 
everywhere, but he could not find Zelia. Then, 
in despair, he flew out again, resolved to go over 
the world until he beheld her once more. 

He took flight at once, and traversed many 
countries, swiftly as a bird can, but found no 
trace of his beloved. At length in a desert, sit- 
ting beside an old hermit in his cave and partak- 
ing with him of his frugal repast, Cheri saw a poor 
peasant girl and recognized Zelia. Transported 
with joy, he flew in, perched on her shoulder, and 
expressed his delight and affection by a thousand 


She, charmed with the pretty little pigeon, 
caressed it in her turn, and promised it that, 
if it would stay with her, she would love it 

"What have you done, Zelia?" said the hermit, 
smiling. And while he spoke the white pigeon van- 
ished, and there stood Prince Cheri in his own 
natural form. "Your enchantment ended, Prince, 
when Zelia promised to love you. Indeed, she 
has loved you always, but your many faults con- 
strained her to hide her love. These are now 
amended, and you may both live happy if you 
will, because your union is founded upon mutual 

Cheri and Zelia threw themselves at the feet of 
the hermit, whose form also began to change. 
His soiled garments became of dazzling whiteness, 
and his long beard and withered face grew into 
the flowing hair and lovely countenance of Fairy 

"Rise up, my children," said she; "I must now 
transport you to your palace, and restore to Prince 
Cheri his father's crown, of which he is now 

She had scarcely ceased speaking when they 
found themselves in the chamber of Suliman, who, 
delighted to find again his beloved pupil and 
master, willingly resigned the throne, and became 
the most faithful of his subjects. 


King Cheri and Queen Zelia reigned together 
for many years, and it is said that the former was 
so blameless and strict in all his duties that, 
though he constantly wore the ring which Candide 
had restored to him, it never once pricked his 
finger enough to make it bleed. 

Madame Le Prince de Beaumont 
(After Miss Muloch) 


Once upon a time there was a widow who had 
two daughters. The elder was so exactly like her 
mother in disposition and in face that whoever 
saw one, saw the other. They were both so dis- 
agreeable and so proud that nobody could endure 

The younger was the image of her dead father. 
She was sweet and kind-hearted, besides being 
very beautiful. While her mother loved the elder 
daughter to distraction, she hated the younger. 
The poor child had to eat in the kitchen, and work 
day and night. And twice every day she had to 
walk several miles to a distant fountain to fetch 
home a large pitcher of water. 

One morning, while she was resting beside the 
fountain, a poor woman passing by, stopped and 
asked her for a drink. 

"Yes, indeed!" said the obliging young girl. 
And immediately dipping her pitcher, she filled it 
where the water was coldest, and held it care- 
fully up so that the woman might easily drink 
from it. 

When the woman had finished drinking, she 
said: "You are so beautiful, so good, and so kind, 
that I must bestow a gift upon you. For every 


word that you speak, there shall fall from your 
lip£ either a* flower or a jewel." 

Now the woman was not really a poor peasant, 
but a Fairy who had taken that form in order to 
find how kind-hearted the young girl was. She 
then vanished. 

As soon as the daughter arrived at home, her 
mother scolded her for being absent so long. 

"I beg your pardon, my mother, for being 
gone such a long time/' answered the girl. And 
as she spoke there fell from her lips three roses, 
three lilies, three pearls, and three large dia- 

"What do I see!" exclaimed her mother in 
amazement. "Where did you get them, my 
child?" It was the first time in her life that she 
had ever called her "my child." "I do believe 
those jewels came from your mouth!" 

The poor girl told her in a few words what had 
happened, and while she was talking a shower of 
blossoms and gems fell to the ground. 

"Truly!" exclaimed the mother; "I must send 
my darling there! Look!" called she to the elder 
daughter; "see what comes out of your sister's 
mouth. Would you not be glad to have the same 
Fairy gifts? You have only to go and draw 
some water from the fountain, and when a poor 
woman asks for a drink to give it to her very 


"It would certainly look fine for me to carry a 
great pitcher to the fountain!" answered the elder 
daughter angrily. 

"I wish you to go there at once," said her 

So the girl went, but grumbling. She took the 
prettiest silver pitcher that there was in the 
house; and she was no sooner arrived at the foun- 
tain than she saw, stepping out of the wood, a 
magnificent lady attired in rich robes. She ap- 
proached the girl and asked her for a drink. It 
was the same Fairy who had appeared to her sis- 
ter, but who had taken the form of a Princess in 
order to find how rude the girl would be. 

"Oh, indeed!" answered the insolent girl; "do 
you think that I am come here on purpose to 
give you a drink? I suppose you think that I 
have brought a silver pitcher expressly to draw 
water for you! Draw the water yourself, my fine 

"You are rude," replied the Fairy without be- 
coming in the least angry. "Since you are so ut- 
terly disobliging, I bestow on you a gift. It is 
this, for every word that you speak, there shall fall 
from your mouth either a viper or a toad." 

Then the Fairy vanished. 

When her mother saw the girl returning, she 
cried out: "Well, my daughter!" 

"Well, my mother!" snapped the hateful girl, 


and as she spoke there sprang from her mouth 
two snakes and one toad. 

"What do I see!" shrieked her mother. "Your 
sister is the cause of this, and she shall pay for it ! " 

And she rushed to beat the poor child, who fled 
into the neighbouring wood. The son of the King 
was returning from the chase, and met her as she 
was running away. Seeing how beautiful she was, 
he asked her why she was there alone, and why 
she wept. 

"Ah, sir," she said, "it is because my mother 
has driven me from home." 

The King's son, seeing five or six pearls and as 
many diamonds fall from her lips, begged her to 
explain how such a marvel could be. When she 
told him about the Fairy's gift, he thought that 
such a wedding portion was more than he could 
expect with a Princess, so he led the girl to his 
palace, and married her. 

As for the sister, she made herself so hated, and 
so many vipers and toads sprang from her mouth, 
that at last her mother drove her from home. And, 
after having been refused shelter by all the neigh- 
bours, she died in a dark corner of the wood. 

Charles Perrault 


Once upon a time there was a poor widow, who 
had two charming daughters. She named the 
elder Blanche, and the younger Rose, because 
they had the most beautiful complexions in the 

One day, while the mother sat spinning at the 
door of her cottage, she saw a poor, bent, old 
woman hobbling by on a crutch. She pitied her, 
and said: — 

"You are very tired. Sit down a minute and 

Then she called her daughters to fetch a chair. 
They both hastened, but Rose ran faster than her 
sister and brought it. 

"Will you not have a drink? " asked the mother 

"Indeed, I will," replied the old woman. "And 
it seems to me that I could eat a morsel, too, if 
you will give me something to strengthen me." 

"I will gladly give you all that I have," said the 
mother, "but as I am poor, it will not be much." 

Then she bade her daughters wait on the old 
woman, who had seated herself at the table. She 
told Blanche to go and pick some plums from the 
plum tree that Blanche herself had planted, and 


of which she was very proud. But instead of obey- 
ing her mother pleasantly, she went away grum- 
bling, and thinking, "What a shame that I have 
taken such care of my tree just for this greedy 
old woman!" However, she did not dare refuse 
to fetch some plums, and she brought them with 
a very bad grace, and evidently much against her 

"And you, Rose," said the mother, "you have 
no fruit to give this good lady, for your grapes are 
not yet ripe!" 

"That is true," answered Rose, "but I hear 
my hen cackling. She has just laid an egg 9 and I 
will give that with all my heart!" 

And without allowing the old woman time to 
speak, Rose ran out to seek the egg. But when 
she came back the old woman had disappeared, 
and in her place stood the most beautiful lady — 
a Fairy. 

"Good woman," said she to the mother, "I am 
about to reward your two daughters as they de- 
serve. The elder shall become a great Queen, and 
the younger shall be a farmer's wife." 

Then the lady waved a wand and in a twinkling 
the little cottage was changed into a pretty farm- 
house surrounded by a flourishing farm. 

"This is your wedding portion," said she to 
Rose. "I know I am giving to each of you what 
you like best." 


So saying the Fairy disappeared, leaving the 
mother and daughters speechless with surprise 
and joy. They were delighted with the spotless- 
ness of all the furniture. The chairs were of wood, 
but they were so well polished that they shone 
like mirrors. The beds w T ere covered with linen 
as white as snow. In the stables there w T ere twenty 
sheep, as many lambs, four oxen, four cows; and 
in the yard were chickens, ducks, and pigeons. 
There was also a pretty garden full of fruits and 
flow T ers. 

Blanche saw without jealousy all that the Fairy 
had given her sister. She was taken up with the 
thought of the delightful times she should have 
when she became a Queen. Just then a party of 
royal hunters passed by. And while she stood in 
the door to look at them, she appeared so won- 
derfully beautiful in the eyes of the King that he 
determined to marry her. 

After she became Queen, she said to Rose: "I do 
not wish you to be a farmer's wife. Come with 
me, sister, and I will wed you to a great lord." 

"I am much obliged to you, my sister," an- 
swered Rose, "but I am used to the country, and 
wish always to remain here." 

During the first months of her marriage Queen 
Blanche was so occupied with fine clothes, balls, 
and the theatre, that she thought of nothing else. 
But afterward she became accustomed to the gay 


doings of the Court, and nothing amused her. On 
the contrary, she had many troubles. 

At first the courtiers paid her great deference, 
but she knew that when she was not present, they 
said to each other: "See how this little peasant 
puts on the airs of a fine lady! The King must 
have very low taste to choose sueh a wife!" 

Talk like this came to the King, and he began 
to think that he had made a mistake in marrying 
Blanehe, so he ceased to love her, and neglected 
her sadly. When the courtiers saw this, they no 
longer did her honour. She had not one true 
friend to whom she might confide her sorrows. 
She always had a doctor near her who examined 
her food and took away everything she liked. They 
put no salt in her soups. She was forbidden to 
walk when she wished to. In a word, she was in- 
terfered with from morning to night. The King 
took her children from her, and gave them in 
charge of go vernesses who brought them up badly. 
But the Queen dared not say a word. 

Poor Blanche! She was dying of grief . She be- 
came so thin that everybody pitied her. She had 
not seen her sister for several years, because she 
thought that it would disgrace a Queen to visit 
a farmer's wife. But now feeling herself so un- 
happy, she asked the King's permission to pass a 
few days in the country. He gladly gave his con- 
sent, for he w r as delighted to be rid of her. 


When she arrived in the evening at the home of 
Rose, a band of shepherds and shepherdesses were 
dancing gaily on the grass. " There was a time," 
sighed Blanche, "when I amused myself like these 
simple people! Then there was no one to pre- 
vent it!" " 

While she was thinking thus, her sister ran to 
embrace her, looking so happy and plump that 
Blanche could not help weeping as she gazed at her. 

Rose had married a young farmer, who loved 
her dearly; and together they managed the farm 
that was the Fairy's marriage portion. Rose had 
not many servants, but those she had she treated 
so kindly that they were as devoted to her as if 
they were her children. Her neighbours, too, 
were so fond of her that they were always trying 
to show it. She had not much money, but she had 
no need of it, for her farm produced wheat, wine, 
and oil; her flocks furnished milk; and she made 
butter and cheese. She spun the wool of her sheep 
into clothing for her household, all of whom en- 
joyed the best of health. When the day's work 
was done, the whole family amused themselves 
with games, music, and dancing. 

"Alas!" cried Queen Blanche, "the Fairy made 
me but a sad gift when she gave me a crown! 
People do not find happiness in magnificent pal- 
aces, but in the simple joys and labour of the 


As she finished speaking, the Fairy herself ap- 
peared before her. 

"I did not intend to reward you by making you 
a Queen," she said, "but to punish you because 
you gave your plums with such bad grace. In 
order to be truly happy it is necessary to possess, 
like your sister, only those things that are simple 
and joyful, and not to wish for more." 

" Ah, madame ! " cried Blanche, " you are suffi- 
ciently avenged ! Pray put an end to my misery ! " 

"It is ended," replied the Fairy. "Even now 
the King, who has ceased to love you, is sending 
his officers to forbid your returning to the palace." 

All happened as the Fairy had said. And Blanche 
passed the rest of her life with Rose. She was 
happy and contented, never even thinking of the 
royal Court, except when she thanked the Fairy 
for taking her from it, and bringing her back to the 
pretty farm and to her dear sister. 

Madame Le Prince de Beaumont 


There once lived a gay young girl named Fannie, 
who never knew what time it was. Did she care? 
That I cannot say. And it is impossible for me to 
tell you how often she kept her father waiting, and 
caused him to be late for his appointments. And 
such a kind father as he was to Fannie, for she was 
his only child and he loved her very much. In- 
deed, he loved her so much that he overlooked her 
faults when he should have reproved them. Whole 
half-hours she used to keep the carriage waiting 
in front of the door, while she prinked before her 
mirror. And because she was never prompt, every 
one called her "Miss Tardy." Yet, after keeping 
people waiting, she would excuse herself in the 
sweetest manner possible, and blame herself for 
thoughtlessness . 

One day her old Godmother wrote that she was 
coming the next morning to lunch with Fannie 
at noon. She was a Fairy so celebrated for her 
promptness that people called her "the Fairy 
Prompt," of which name she was very proud. 
With her, noon was not ten minutes after twelve, 
nor ten minutes before twelve, but it was exactly 
twelve o'clock. 

So the next morning, at the first stroke of 


twelve, she set her foot on the bottom step of 
Fannie's house, and, as the last stroke died away, 
she entered the dining-room. The table was beau- 
tifully laid, and all was ready, but Fannie was not 
there. Indeed, Miss Tardy had forgotten all about 
her Godmother, and was calling on a friend. She 
was trying on her friend's beautiful new clothes 
and having such a fine time that the Godmother 
was utterly forgotten, as if she had never been in 
the world. 

But at last hunger reminded Fannie of luncheon, 
and she hurried home. The servants informed her 
that her Godmother had arrived, but as Fannie's 
shoes pinched her, she rushed to her room and 
put on a pretty little pair of slippers. Then, as her 
street clothes were not suitable for slippers, she 
changed her dress for a becoming house-gown. 
By this time it was two o'clock. 

She found her Godmother asleep in a comfort- 
able chair, such as is not made any more; and, 
I think, she was snoring a little. She awoke as 
Fannie opened the door hurriedly. 

"My dear Godmother," said she, "I am so 
sorry ! — so ashamed ! — I am indeed a thought- 
less creature to keep you waiting this way!" 

"That is all right," said the Godmother, w T ho 
was very kind and indulgent to Fannie. "I have 
slept a little, while waiting for you. That will do 
me no harm. What time is it?" 


"Oh, please do not ask me!" begged Fannie, 
"you will make me die with shame!" 

And like a playful child she ran and stood in 
front of the clock, but her Fairy Godmother, who 
had good eyes, saw that the hand had passed two 

The dinner, as you may well imagine, was over- 
done, but the Fairy, who really loved her god- 
daughter, took it all as good-naturedly as possible, 
and made many gay jokes as she tried to eat the 
burnt roasts and the scorched creams. 

It was soon four o'clock, and Fannie's father 
hurriedly entered the drawing-room, where she 
was chatting with her Godmother. 

"Well, Fannie!" he cried. "Are you ready? 
Are you ready?" Then he started back when he 
saw his daughter, in her pretty pink and blue 
house-gown, stretched indolently on a sofa, her 
feet to the fire, while she daintily sipped her 

"What!" exclaimed her father. "Have you 
forgotten that you were to be ready at four 

"Do you not see my Godmother with me, 
Papa?" said Fannie reproachfully. 

"Pardon me, madame," said the father, turn- 
ing to the Fairy and bowing, although his face 
was red with anger. "Excuse my rudeness, but 
my daughter will cause me to die with grief!" 


"And what has the poor child done?" asked 
the Godmother. 

"Judge for yourself," said he. "Prince Pan- 
dolph has invited us to his villa. Fannie is to 
sing for his guests. They are all assembled and 
expecting her. The Prince has sent his carriage 
which is now waiting before the door." 

"But, Papa," said Fannie, "cannot you go 
without me?" 

"You know that cannot be, child," said her 
father sadly. "It is you who are invited, and it 
is your fine voice that the Prince wishes for his 
musicale. He will now be offended for ever, 
since you cannot go in this dress." 

"Calm yourself, my good sir," said the God- 
mother, seeing Fannie's confusion. " It is because 
of me that this dear little one has forgotten you. 
It is for me to repair this evil." 

So saying she passed her hand over the unfor- 
tunate house-gown and it was instantly trans- 
formed into the most ravishing robe embroidered 
with gold and pearls. Fannie, who was naturally 
very pretty, shone like a star in this brilliant 

"Wait a minute," said the Fairy to the impa- 
tient father, who was already leading his daughter 
away. "Let me finish my work." And she put 
around the neck of her goddaughter a magnificent 
golden chain at the end of which hung an ex- 


quisite little watch the size of a locket, and all of 
chased gold studded with diamonds. 

"Now, little one," said she, kissing the fore- 
head of the spoilt child, "here is something that 
will aid your naughty memory. With this you will 
never again forget an engagement. Be sure to 
come home by ten o'clock." 

"Oh, yes, indeed!" said Fannie, kissing her 
Godmother joyfully. 

It is necessary to say here that it was the Fairy 
Prompt who invented watches in her youth. But 
hers were not like those sold nowadays in the 
shops. There was a magic virtue in each watch, 
for when the hour of an engagement arrived, it 
made so loud a ticking that the owner of it had 
no peace until he kept his engagement. 

So it happened that while Fannie was listening 
to the praises of the Prince and his guests, who 
were saying that she had the most delightful voice 
in the world, she heard a gentle sound, but very 
distinct : — 

"Tic! Tic! Tic!" 

"It is ten o'clock!" exclaimed Fannie joyously 
to her father. "Oh! my dear, good, little watch, 
that my Godmother gave me, it has told me so ! 
We must hurry home." 

Her father, who was very much pleased because 
she had charmed the Prince and his guests with 
her sweet voice, said as they drove away: — 


"My dear child, to-morrow I am going to take 
you to the finest jeweller in town, and buy for 
you the bracelet of antique cameos that you 
have been begging me for. At what time do you 
wish to go? At ten o'clock?" 

"Oh, no!" cried Fannie, her eyes sparkling 
with delight, "at nine o'clock, please! Ever since 
I saw the bracelet I have been dying to possess 

"Very good! At nine o'clock, then. And what 
shall we do with the rest of our morning?" 

"At exactly ten I am to go to the dressmak- 
er's to order some new gowns," said Fannie, "but 
may we not lunch together at eleven?" 

"Just as you say, dear little nightingale," 
answered her father affectionately. "And order 
all the gowns and furbelows you wish, for the 
plumage should match the warbling.^And since 
it suits you, I will meet you promptly at eleven, 
for at twelve I have an important business en- 

"At eleven o'clock, then, dear Papa," said 
Fannie, "but do not forget to return in time this 
evening to escort me to the Baron's ball!" 

"Don't worry!" said her father, smiling, "for 
nothing in the world would I make a pearl of a 
daughter like you wait for an escort!" 

The next morning Fannie rose early and 
dressed more rapidly than usual, and was ready 


waiting for her father at nine. They drove to the 
jeweller's. How her eyes sparkled as her father 
clasped the cameo bracelet on her arm! But the 
jew T eller, who hoped to sell Fannie a necklace as 
well, took from his showcase such beautiful col- 
lars of pearls, rubies, amethysts, and other gems 
and precious stones that she forgot how the time 
was flying. 

"Tic! Tic! Tic! Tic!" 

"Thank you, dear watch, for warning me!" 
said Fannie gaily, "but the dressmaker must 

"Tic! Tic! Tic! Tic! Tic!" 

"You insupportable thing!" cried she, and 
taking the watch from her neck she handed it 
to her father, saying: "I beg you, dear Papa, to 
put this in your pocket. It is very annoying!" 

He took the watch, and seeing a friend on the 
street, went to the door to speak with him. 

"Toe! Toe! Toe! Toe!" 

The watch raised its voice so that Fannie 
should hear it. The people in the shop all asked 
where the noise came from. And her father, mor- 
tified, said good-bye to his friend, gave back the 
w r atch to Fannie, and hurried her into the carriage. 

She was soon at the dressmaker's, and her ill- 
humour passed as she ordered a dress of pink bro- 
cade trimmed with rich lace, and a robe of garnet 
velvet embroidered with gold threads, and a cloak 


of silver cloth trimmed with pearls. She was not 
yet through when she glanced at the clock, and 
saw that it was eleven. 

"Oh!" thought she, "that horrid watch is 
going to disturb me again! But I'll finish my 

''Toe! Toe! Toe! Toe!" 

The dressmaker turned her head. "What's 
that, Miss?" she exclaimed with fright. 

"It is nothing, let us go on!" said Miss Tardy. 
'"Toe! Toe! Toe! Toe!" louder than before. 

"It is thieves! It is thieves!" cried the dress- 
maker. » 

"It is nothing I tell you — unfold this gown." 

"Toe!— Toe! — Toe! — Toe!" louder and 

And the poor dressmaker, half dead with fright, 
was in such a state that she could show no more 
clothes. And Fannie put on her hat and coat, and 
hurried away to the restaurant where she found 
her father walking nervously up and down. 

"Ah! how thoughtful of you, dear child, to be 
prompt!" he said, as he led her to a table. And 
the delicious food soon made her forget her an- 

When Fannie returned home she was so fa- 
tigued that she put on a charming wrapper, and 
lay down to rest. Then she remembered that she 
had an engagement to see a poor man at two 


o'clock, whose want she had promised to relieve. 
She took the fatal watch from her neck, and 
giving it to the maid, said: — 

"Take this, and carry it to the cellar, so that 
I may be rid of it!" 

Two o'clock struck, and the poor old man, 
who had had nothing to eat for three days, pre- 
sented himself. The maid told him that Miss 
Fannie was sleeping and would not see him. With 
tears streaming down his cheeks, he bowed 
humbly and was turning away, when everybody 
in the house jumped to the ceiling. 

"Paf! Paf! Paf! Paf!" It was like so many 
shots from a pistol. 

The neighbours commenced screaming. The 
servants ran frantically to and fro. 

Fannie sprang up from her couch. 

"Paf! Paf! Paf! Paf!" 

"It must be that wretched watch!" cried she. 

"Paf! — Paf! — Paf! — Paf!" 

"Yes! Yes! I am coming! I am coming!" 
And she hurried to the cellar and, picking up the 
watch, returned to her room in silence. 

Then she called the poor old man, fed him, and 
comforted him, and sent him away with a full 

Evening arrived, and Fannie, all dressed for the 
Baron's ball, shone more beautifully than ever 
in her magnificent gown. And just as her father 


was leading her to the carriage, a clumsy wagon 
drove up, and an old countrywoman descended 
from it, crying out that she must see her dear 
child — her Fannie — just once more before 
she died. It was Fannie's old nurse who had come 
all the way from her village miles distant to hold 
her dear child in her arms. When she saw that 
Fannie was ready to go out, she screamed loudly 
and would have made herself ill, if Fannie had 
not embraced her tenderly, and promised to re- 
turn before midnight. On the strength of this 
promise the old woman grew calm, and Fannie 
and her father went away to the ball. 

But as the carriage drove through the streets, 
Fannie regretted her promise, and slipping her 
little hand under her cloak, she loosened the 
fatal watch, and flung it into a deep ditch. 

"At last! At last!" she said to herself, with a 
sigh of relief. 

Midnight sounded, and found her breathlessly 
twirling around in the dance, her eyes sparkling 
and her cheeks glowing. 

"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! 9 ' 

The orchestra stopped suddenly. The thunder- 
claps — for so they seemed to be — continued to 
follow each other without interruption. 

" Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!" 

All the city was awake. Women cried out that 
the end of the world was come. 


The unfortunate Fannie knew in a minute 
what it was. Fright seized her, and she lost her 
head. Instead of returning home quietly, which 
would have put an end to the horrible racket, 
she ran out into the street, and, wild with fright, 
hastened with all speed to the spot where she had 
thrown the watch. 

"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! 
Boom! Boom!" 

The houses were lighted. The amazed people 
thrust their heads out the windows. All that 
they saw was a young girl running through the 
streets, her neck and head bare, and her ball- 
gown flying in the wind. 

"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! 
Boom! Boom!" — every stroke was louder and 
more fearful. 

The firemen came hurrying up to see if there 
was a fire, and one of them held his lantern under 
Fannie's nose, and cried out: "Why, it is little 
Miss Tardy ! She has doubtless lost the time, and 
is hunting for it ! Ha! Ha!" 

Meanwhile Fannie ran on, and arrived breath- 
lessly at the ditch into which she had flung the 
watch. Guided by its thunderous blows, she 
quickly laid her fingers on it. In a fury she was 
about to dash it against a stone when she felt a 
hand on her arm. 

It was her Fairy Godmother, who, in gentle 


tones of reproach, said: "What are you doing, 
my child? You can never succeed ! " 

Then she took the watch from Fannie, which 
instantly became quiet, and passed the chain 
around the neck of her goddaughter, who was 
trembling with penitence and shame. 

"Neither violence nor trickery," said her God- 
mother, "have any power over my gift to you. 
All you can do is to take it, and obey. And then 
you will find yourself happy." 

At the same moment Miss Tardy felt herself 
being transported through the air, and found her- 
self once more in her own room, holding the hand 
of her old nurse, who was weeping with tender- 
ness and joy. 

I have no need to tell you that Fannie never 
again attempted to disobey the protecting tyrant 
that she wore around her neck. And as the watch 
no longer had to warn her with its loud ticking, 
she learned in time to enjoy sacrificing her whims 
to her duty. 

Jean Mace {Adapted) 


A little Fairy comes at night; 

Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown, 
With silver spots upon her wings, 

And from the moon she flutters down. 

She has a little silver wand; 

And when a good child goes to bed, 
She waves her wand from right to left, 

And makes a circle round its head. 

And then it dreams of pleasant things, 
Of fountains filled with Fairy fish, 

And trees that bear delicious fruit, 
And bow their branches at a wish; 

Of arbours filled with dainty scents 
From lovely flowers that never fade; 

Bright flies that glitter in the sun 

And glow-worms shining in the shade; 

And talking birds with gifted tongues 
For singing songs and telling tales, 

And pretty Dwarfs to show the way 
Through Fairy hills and Fairy dales. 


But when a bad child goes to bed, 

From left to right she weaves her rings, 

And then it dreams all through the night 
Of only ugly horrid things ! 

Then wicked children wake and weep, 
And wish the long black gloom away; 

But good ones love the dark, and find 
The night as pleasant as the day. 

Thomas Hood {Condensed) 

A little knight and little maid 

Met on the rim of Fairyland; 
A rippling stream betwixt them played; 

The little knigM reached out his hand. 

And said: "Now, may I cross to you, 

Or will you come across to me?" 
Out spoke the little maiden true: 
"Sir knight, nor this nor that can be: 

"For I am here white flowers to sow, 
That little maidens far behind. 
Or wandering on the plains below, 
Their pathway up the hill may find. 

"And you are there good work to do; 
To clear the brambles from the way, 
That little knights who follow you 
May not upon the mountains stray" 

Lucy Larcom 


In the days of yore there lived a very idle, greedy, 
naughty boy such as we never hear of in these 
times. His name was Master No-Book. The 
young gentleman hated lessons like mustard, 
both of which brought tears to his eyes. And 
during school hours he sat gazing at his books, 
pretending to be busy, while he considered where 
he could get the nicest pies, pastries, ices, and jel- 
lies. He smacked his lips at the very thought of 

Whenever Master No-Book spoke, it was to 
ask for a piece of cake, or an apple, or a bit of 
plum pudding. Indeed, very frequently w T hen 
he did not get permission to eat the goodies, this 
naughty glutton helped himself without leave. 

One afternoon Master No-Book, having played 
truant from school, was lolling on his mamma's 
best sofa, with his leather boots tucked up on the 
satin cushions, and nothing to do but to suck a 
few oranges, and nothing to think of but how 
much sugar to put into them, when suddenly an 
event took place which filled him with astonish- 

A sound of soft music stole into the room, be- 


coming louder and louder, the longer he listened, 
till at length a large hole burst open in the wall 
of the room. Then there stepped into his pres- 
ence two magnificent Fairies, just arrived from 
their castles in the air, to pay him a visit. They 
had travelled all the way on purpose to talk with 
Master No-Book. 

The Fairy Do-Nothing was gorgeously dressed 
with a wreath of flames round her head, a robe 
of gold tissue, a necklace of rubies, and a bou- 
quet of glittering diamonds in her hand. Her 
teeth were gold, her hair was of the most brilliant 
purple, and her eyes were green. In fact she was 
a most fine and fashionable Fairy. 

The Fairy Teach-All, who followed next, was 
simply dressed in white muslin, with bunches of 
natural flowers in her brown hair; and she car- 
ried a few, neat, small books, which made Mas- 
ter No-Book shudder. 

The two Fairies now informed him that they 
very often invited large parties of children to 
spend some time at their palaces. Therefore they 
had now come to invite Master No-Book, but 
as they lived in opposite directions, he would 
have to choose which he would visit first. 

"In my house," said the Fairy Teach-All, 
speaking with a very sweet smile, and a soft, 
pleasing voice, "my ybung friends rise at seven 
every morning, and amuse themselves with work- 


ing in a beautiful garden of flowers, raising fruits 
of all kinds, visiting the poor, playing together, 
and learning to know the world they live in and 
how to fulfill the purposes for which they have 
been brought into it. In short, all our amuse- 
ments tend to some useful object; and you will 
grow wiser, better, and happier every day you 
remain in the Palace of Knowledge." 

"But in the Castle Needless, where I live," 
interrupted the Fairy Do-Nothing, rudely push- 
ing her companion aside, "we never think of 
working. No one is ever asked a question. We 
lead the most fashionable life imaginable. Each 
of my visitors sits with his back to as many of the 
company as possible, and whenever he can, he 
sits in the most comfortable chair. If he takes 
the trouble to wish for anything, he gets it. 
Clothes are provided of the most magnificent 
kinds, which go on by themselves without but- 
tons or strings. Delicious dishes are served smok- 
ing hot under his nose, at all hours, while any rain 
that falls is of lemonade, chocolate, and cider. 
And in Winter it generally snows ice-cream and 
tutti-frutti, for an hour during the forenoon." 

Nobody need be told which Fairy Master No- 
Book preferred. And quite charmed at his good 
fortune in receiving such a delightful invitation, 
he eagerly gave his hand to his splendid new 
acquaintance, who promised him so much pleas- 


ure and ease. He gladly proceeded with her in a 
carriage lined with velvet, stuffed with downy 
pillows, and drawn by milk-white swans, to that 
magnificent residence, Castle Needless, which 
was lighted by a thousand windows during the 
day and by a million lamps at night. 

Here Master No-Book enjoyed a constant holi- 
day and a continual feast. A beautiful lady, cov- 
ered with jewels, was ready to tell him stories 
from morning till night. Servants waited to pick 
up his playthings if they fell, and to draw out 
his purse or pocket handkerchief when he wished 
to use them. 

Thus Master No-Book lay dozing for hours 
and days on richly embroidered cushions, never 
stirring from his place in the garden, but admiring 
the view of trees covered with the richest burnt 
almonds, the grottoes of sugar-candy, a fountain 
of lemonade, and a bright clear pond filled with 
goldfish that let themselves be caught. 

Nothing could be more complete, yet strange 
to say Master No-Book did not seem particu- 
larly happy. Every day he became more peev- 
ish. No sweetmeats were worth the trouble of 
eating, no game was pleasant to play, and he 
wished that it were possible to sleep all day as 
well as night. 

Not a hundred miles from the Fairy Do-Noth- 
ing's palace, there lived a cruel monster called 


the Giant Snap-'Em-Up. When he stood erect, 
he looked like the tall steeple of a great church. 
He raised his head so high that he could peep 
over the loftiest mountains; and he was obliged 
to climb a ladder to comb his own hair. 

Every morning this prodigiously great Giant 
walked round the world before breakfast, looking 
for something to eat. He lived in fine style, and 
his dinners were most magnificent, consisting of 
an elephant roasted whole, ostrich patties, a tiger 
smothered in onions, stewed lions, and whale 
soup. But for a side dish, his favourite of all con- 
sisted of little boys, as fat as possible, fried in 
crumbs of bread with plenty of pepper and salt. 

No children were so well-fed or in such good 
condition for eating as those in the Fairy Do- 
Nothing's garden, who was a particular friend 
of the Giant Snap-'Em-Up. She oftentimes 
laughingly said that she gave him permission to 
help himself, whenever he pleased, to as many of 
her visitors as he chose. And in return for such 
civility the Giant often invited her to dinner. 

One day, when Master No-Book felt even more 
lazy, more idle, more miserable than ever, he lay 
beside a perfect mountain of toys and cakes, 
wondering what to wish for next, and hating the 
very sight of everything and everybody. At last 
he gave so loud a yawn of weariness and disgust, 
and he sighed so deeply, that the Giant Snap- 


'Em-Up heard the sounds as he passed along the 
road before breakfast. 

Instantly he stepped into the garden to see 
what was the matter. On observing a large, 
fat, overgrown boy, as round as a dumpling, 
lying on a bed of roses, he gave a cry of delight, 
followed by a gigantic peal of laughter which was 
heard three miles off. 

Picking up Master No-Book between his fin- 
ger and thumb, with a pinch that nearly broke 
his ribs, he carried him rapidly toward his own 
castle; while the Fairy Do-Nothing laughingly 
shook her head as he passed, saying: — 

"That little man does me great credit! He has 
been fed only for a week, and is as fat already 
as a prize ox! What a dainty morsel he will be! 
When do you dine, my friend Snap-'Em-Up, 
in case I should have time to look in upon 

On reaching home the Giant immediately 
hung up Master No-Book by the hair of his head 
on a prodigious hook in the larder. Then he 
went away to look for more little boys. 

There, in torture of mind and body — like a 
fish on a hook — the wretched Master No-Book 
began to reflect seriously on his former ways, 
and to consider what a happy home he might 
have had if he had been satisfied to go to school 
and study with the other boys. 


In the midst of these sad reflections, Master 
No-Book's attention was attracted by the sound 
of many voices laughing, talking, and singing, 
which caused him to turn his eyes and look out 
of the larder window. For the first time he ob- 
served that the Fairy Teach-AH's garden lay 
upon a beautiful sloping bank not far away. 

There a crowd of merry, noisy, rosy-cheeked 
boys were busily employed, and seemed happier 
than the day was long. Poor Master No-Book 
watched them, envying the enjoyment with 
which they raked the flower-borders, gathered 
fruit, carried baskets of vegetables to the poor, 
worked with carpenters' tools, drew pictures, 
shot with bows and arrows, and played ball. 
Then they sat in sunny arbours learning their 
lessons, till, the dinner-bell having been rung, the 
whole party sat down to a feast of roast meat, 
apple-pie, and other good wholesome things. 
The Fairy Teach-All presided, and helped her 
guests to as much as was good for them. 

Large tears rolled down the cheeks of Master 
No-Book while watching this scene, and remem- 
bering that if he had known what was best for 
him, he might have been as happy as the happi- 
est of these excellent boys, instead of being about 
to suffer a most miserable death. 

Now, as the Giant Snap-'Em-Up wished a nice 
dish of fried boys for dinner, and as there was 


plenty of time, he seized a large basket in his 
hand, and set off at a rapid pace toward the Fairy 
Teach- All's garden. It was very seldom that 
Snap-'Em-Up ventured to forage there, as he 
had never once succeeded in carrying off a single 
captive from that garden, it was so well forti- 
fied and so bravely defended. But on this occa- 
sion, being desperately hungry, he felt bold as a 
lion, and walked with outstretched hands straight 
toward the Fairy Teaeh-AlPs dinner-table, taking 
such huge strides that he seemed almost to tram- 
ple on himself. 

A cry of consternation arose the minute this 
tremendous Giant appeared. And as usual, as 
when on such occasions he had made the same 
attempt before, a dreadful battle took place. 
Fifty active little boys flew upon the enemy with 
their dinner knives, and like a nest of hornets, 
stung him in every direction, till he roared with 
pain, and would have run away; but the Fairy 
Teaeh-All rushed forward, and cut off his head 
with the carving-knife. 

If a great mountain had fallen to the earth, it 
would have seemed like nothing in comparison 
with the Giant Snap-'Em-Up, who crushed houses 
to powder under him. But the greatest event 
which occurred was the death of the Fairy Do- 
Nothing, who had been looking on at this battle, 
and who was too lazy to run away. When the 


Giant fell, his sword came with so violent a stroke 
on her head that she instantly expired. 

The Fairy Teach-All, seeing the enemy dead, 
hastened to the Giant's Castle, and lost no time 
in liberating Master No-Book from his hook 
in the larder. 

From this very hour, Master No-Book became 
the most diligent, active, happy boy in the Fairy 
Teach-All's garden. And on returning home 
a few months afterward, he astonished all his 
teachers at school by his wisdom and studious- 
ness. He scarcely ever stirred without a book 
in his hand, never lay on a sofa again, and pre- 
ferred a three-legged stool to a comfortable 
chair with a back. He detested holidays, and 
never ate a morsel of food till he had worked 
very hard and got an appetite. 

When he grew up, he was known as Sir Tim- 
othy Bluestocking. And though generally very 
good-natured and agreeable, Sir Timothy was 
occasionally to be seen in a violent passion, lay- 
ing around him with his walking-stick, and beat- 
ing little boys within an inch of their lives. It 
invariably appeared that he had found them to 
be lazy, idle, or greedy. 

Catherine Sinclair (Adapted) 


Timothy Tuttle, Esquire, was reclining on his 
soft, comfortable sofa. The gas-light flashed 
brilliantly over the rich rug and rosewood furni- 
ture, and fell softly on the velvet-seated chairs 
and heavy curtains. It was a mild evening in 
June, and the cool air came refreshingly in, while 
the bright light flashed gaily out the windows. 

Timothy Tuttle, Esquire, one of the richest 
merchants in the city, was reposing after the 
fatigues of the day. He was thinking how very 
good and respectable he was, and of his success 
in life, of his great wealth, and especially of his 
ships now in the China seas, which were bringing 
him even more wealth. Then he thought of his 
plans for a fine new mansion, and how he would 
now be able to purchase many costly things for 
his home. Very soon he grew weary, and fell 

Suddenly he awoke and heard something mov- 
' ing over the rug, and turning his head to see what 
it was, beheld a dozen or more of the strangest 
little creatures capering about. They were like 
little Imps in human form, but winged and not 
higher than Timothy's knee. They were coal- 


black from head to foot, and were moving around 
with grace and agility. 

Timothy Tuttle was a brave man, but he was 
very much startled to see this unexpected sight. 
For as soon as the little Imps perceived that he 
was awake, they began to bow to him in quick 
succession, more and more rapidly, and all the 
time grinning and showing their white teeth from 
ear to ear. 

Then Timothy Tuttle heard something squeak 
close to his head, and saw one of the little crea- 
tures sitting on the arm of the sofa and mowing 
at him. 

" Don't be afraid, Timothy, it's only I!" it 

"Who on earth are you," asked Timothy, "and 
what do you want?" 

This question seemed to amuse all the little fel- 
lows hugely, for they began to bow again, grinning 
and capering in fine style, and crying out: — 

"How do you do, Timothy?" 

"We are very glad to see you, Timothy!" 

"Don't be afraid, Timothy, we're all here!" 

"I am glad of that!" exclaimed Timothy; "I'm 
glad that there are no more of you!" 

"Plenty more! Plenty more, Timothy!" they 
cried, laughing and holding their sides. "But 
we'll do, Timothy! We'll do! Oh, yes, we'll do! 
We'll do!" 


Timothy Tuttle was no coward, but he could 
not help feeling somewhat frightened as he looked 
at their antics; and he gazed around to see where 
they could have come in. The door was locked, 
and only the window was open. 

"What do you want? Go away! Go away!" 
he cried, in a husky voice. 

The little Imps grinned all the more. 

"Dee-lighted to see you, Timothy!" 

"Flattering reception, Timothy!" 

"We'll be happy to stay, Timothy!" 

And with that they began to bow again with 
great politeness. 

Timothy looked about for some weapon of de- 
fence, but saw nothing within reach. 

"What do you want?" he demanded again. 

"Want you, Timothy!" 

"Must come with us, Timothy!" 

"Where to?" he demanded. 

At that all the little Imps pointed over their 
shoulders with their thumbs, to the open window. 

Timothy reflected that, as he was in the second 
story of the house, any attempt to go out by the 
window, without wings, would be preposterous. 
He drew his hand across his eyes to make sure 
that he was not asleep; then he looked again, and 
there were all the little Imps bowing more po- 
litely than ever. He seized a pillow, and was 
about to throw it at them, when they flew at 


him, dragged the pillow out of his hands, over- 
powered him, and picking him up by the arms and 
legs, flew out of the window, carrying him off 

How far he was carried Timothy Tuttle never 
knew, but it seemed to him a very long distance. 
When he found himself again at liberty, he was 
lying on the bare ground in the cold moonlight. 
He sprang up, and saw all the little Imps standing 
in a circle around him, bowing and nodding with 
great good-humour. 

He looked about. He found himself on an 
open plain, surrounded by forests. Nothing was 
in sight except a very large Gothic building in the 
centre of the plain. It was old, but a larger and 
more magnificent building Timothy had never 
seen. Its pointed roof rose to the skies, and 
stained-glass windows adorned its gray stone 
walls. The turrets and towers were beautifully 
carved, and the walls were hung here and there 
with green ivy. But the building was falling into 
decay. Some of the windows were broken, and 
some of the stones crumbling to ruin. A few of 
the arches were fallen, and the roof threatened 
to cave in. 

Timothy Tuttle turned from surveying this 
building, to look at his grinning companions. 

"You're wanted, Timothy!" cried one. 

"Where?" he asked hoarsely. 


They all pointed over their shoulders with 
their thumbs at the great door of the building. 

"But what if I will not go?" he asked, in as 
cool and determined a voice as he could assume. 

At this all the little Imps began to caper about 
in great glee, singing: — 

tl Mortals rash 
Who disobey ', 
Little Imps 
Will bear away I 
If they still 
Refuse to go, 
If they dare 
To answer, ' No 1 ' 
Take a pin. 
And stick it in !" 

At that instant Timothy Tuttle felt a sharp pain 
in one of his legs, and he could not help crying out. 
He knew that there was nothing to do but to 
obey, so he, turned and walked toward the build- 
ing, while the quick patter of tiny feet and the 
flutter of wings told him that the little Imps were 
close behind. 

Only once did he turn his head, and his ears 
were greeted with: — 

"Oh, yes, Timothy! We're all here!" 

When Timothy had entered the door, he found 
that the interior of the building was one great 
room. Around its sides were galleries rising tier 
above tier, and under the galleries were recesses 
and alcoves; still, it was all one room. 


From the centre of the arched ceiling hung a 
splendid chandelier, with a thousand lamps. But 
most of the lights were extinguished, and the few 
that were burning, flickered and smoked so badly 
that the building was dimly lighted. 

When Timothy first entered, his ears were 
filled with a hissing and fluttering sound, and 
after he had been there long enough to become 
used to the dim light, he saw that the whole build- 
ing was full of just such little Imps as had brought 
him hither. They were flying up and down, and 
flitting to and fro, and seemed very busy. Look- 
ing up, he saw four or five large windows through 
which some appeared to fly away, while others 
would dart through into the building with great 
swiftness, just as bees come and go from the hive. 
But the most astonishing part of it all was their 
extraordinary politeness to Timothy, and the 
grinning that showed on all sides as he entered. 

Now, as we have said before, Timothy Tuttle 
was no coward, and, stepping up to one of the 
little Imps who had just flown in, he said: — 

"You seem to know me." 

"Oh, yes, Timothy!" replied the little fellow, 
nodding violently. "Yes! I know you! I know 

"Well, where do you all go to out those win- 
dows? And where do you come from?" 

"Oh, I've just been to China!" 


Timothy looked as if he did not believe him. 

"Yes, I've just been to the China seas, on 
board your ships, and I have been counting your 
wealth." And the little wretch winked fast and 

Timothy was dumb. He remembered what he 
had been thinking when he fell asleep. 

His grinning companion left him, and he wan- 
dered about the great edifice, where he saw a 
large number of little Imps busily at work. Some 
were painting the wall with small brushes. It was 
amazing to see how rapidly they could sketch a 

Timothy watched them for a moment, and 
fairly held his breath when he saw one by one 
past scenes of his own life start out upon the 
wall. Many of the scenes he had thought that 
no one knew of but himself. But here one or an- 
other of his deeds, good and bad, was drawn to 
the very life upon the wall! And as they worked, 
the little fellows grinned and sang, but Tim- 
othy could not understand what they said. 

Timothy turned away from these grinning 
little creatures, and moved to where another 
group were sketching other pictures. He was al- 
most afraid to look at the pictures, but when he 
did so, he saw that the painters were making 
designs too ugly and horrid to look at. But Tim- 
othy was perplexed, for of all the pictures there 


was none that he did not think he had seen some- 
where before. And these little Imps were singing 
the same song that the others were singing, and 
Timothy thought that he caught the refrain: — 

" Bad little, 
Sad little, 
Mad little 


Here he turned to look into the recesses and 
alcoves under the galleries. Not all the inhabit- 
ants of the edifice were like the little creatures 
who had brought him hither. Oh, no! In the 
shadows of the great pillars there lurked and 
crawled great slimy things that made one shud- 
der to see. Enormous spiders, larger than any 
Timothy had ever dreamed of, ran swiftly across 
the floor. Centipedes and lizards clung to the 
mouldy walls, and cold, slippery serpents glided 
noiselessly along. Occasionally he came upon 
huge shapeless creatures who lay curled upon the 
floor, staring at him with watery eyes. 

Timothy hastily picked his way out into the 
light again. Here he found other groups of 
painters. One group was using brighter colours 
and blending them beautifully. But he could 
scarcely believe his own eyes when he saw the 
picture of the fine mansion he was planning, and 
the images of a thousand other things he had 
wished and hoped for. 


But the painters in the next group were acting 
very strangely. They touched their brushes to 
the wall hastily and tremblingly, glancing over 
their shoulders as if in terror. And though their 
pictures did not assume any definite form, Tim- 
othy felt most uneasy. There he saw the dim 
outline of another world of which he had heard, 
but had forgotten to think of for many years. 

Meanwhile Timothy had reached the upper 
end of the room, and found himself close to a 
great curtain tightly drawn. On either side of 
it he beheld a marble basin. One of the basins 
had evidently contained a fountain, but it was 
now half choked with mud, and only a little water 
oozed out of it. On looking into the other, he 
was astonished to find it full of liquid fire. 

Just then he heard behind the curtain the 
sound as of a mighty rushing wind, and at the 
same moment the two fountains boiled up and 
cast out their dirt, and this they continued to 
do until each basin was brimming full, one of 
pure water and the other of pure fire. 

The little Imps, too, heard the sound. At first 
they were awed and hushed; then they began to 
fly about in confusion until Timothy was bewil- 
dered by the noise and movement. 

Suddenly the curtain was parted, and Tim- 
othy saw a stately Lady seated upon a throne 
in a noble arched recess. Her head was thrown 


back, her eyes flashed, and in her hand she 
held a scourge every thong of which seemed 
to writhe and twist and end in little snappers 
of fire. 

v At the sight of this scourge and the frown on 
the Lady's face, all the little Imps began to howl 
dismally. The Lady arose, and came down from 
her throne into the centre of the room, and the 
little Imps fled before her. But they could not 
escape. Seizing the first one she met, she plunged 
him several times into the basin of water. Then 
taking him out, she carried him kicking and 
quivering to the other basin, and plunged him 
into the fire. Timothy stood horror-stricken. He 
leaned against a pillar to support himself, but 
what was his astonishment to see the Lady take 
the little fellow out of the basin, and release him; 
and he ran away unharmed. But a strange thing 
had happened. The little Imp was no longer so 
black, and instead of grinning maliciously, he 
was now smiling as pleasantly as possible. 

The Lady seized every little Imp in the room, 
in the same manner, and plunged him into both 
basins. Then she collected troops of the Imps, 
and drove them before her with the fiery scourge. 
She made them begin to scrape the dirt off the 
floor, and down from the walls, to repair the bro- 
ken places in the roof, and to polish the rusty 
and musty spots. And all the rubbish she made 


them throw into the basin full of pure fire. Some- 
times two or three little Imps would carry one of 
the great slimy reptiles, and drop him in, and all 
those thus dropped into the fire never came out 

And as the little Imps worked, they broke into 
a song: — 

"All the rubbish 
Thither take! 
Little whip 
Will make us ache I 
Tug! Tug! 
The big bug, 
Spider foul, 
And slimy thing, 
In the fire, 
Lightly fling ! 

"Rub! Rub! 

Of the rust! 
Sweep! Sweep! 
Away the dust ! 
Sparkle! Sparkle! 
Precious stone, 
Pearly roof, 
And ivory throne ! 

" Oh, dear! dear! dear! 
Hear the fiery lashes crack ! 
On each little lazy back ! 
Hear the glowing basin boil! 
Little Imps must burn or toil!" 

Timothy watched and listened until he became 
very weary; then he stretched himself out on the 
floor and fell asleep. 


When he awoke, he found himself lying in a 
dazzling light. How long he had been asleep he 
did not know. He sprang to his feet with an 
agility and ease that he had never felt before. He 
looked about him. There was still the same great 
room, the same chandelier with its thousand 
lamps, the same pattering of little feet and rustling 
of wings! But, oh, how changed! How changed! 

The arched roof was composed of transparent 
pearl, delicately carved, and fretted with lines 
of brilliant rose-diamonds. Pendants hung from 
the arches, formed of great diamonds and pearls 
cut into exquisite shapes. The walls were of ruby 
and topaz, and sparkled with mosaics of precious 
gems, representing scenes more beautiful than 
any ever seen on earth. The huge pillars were of 
jasper and around them was twined the graceful 
immortal amaranth. The floor was of coloured 
marble, inlaid with onyx and amethyst. 

In the noble recess at the end of the room, sat 
the Lady on a throne carved from ivory and 
studded with diamonds. Her scourge and frown 
had disappeared, and from her smiling counte- 
nance shone a divine beauty. 

The chandelier, every lamp of which was now 
pouring out a silver light, sent a glowing radi- 
ance into the farthest corners and recesses under 
the galleries, and revealed no signs of stain or 
shadow. The basins threw high their spray of 


sparkling water and pure fire, looking like foun- 
tains of liquid light, which fell back again with 
the softest music. 

But the greatest change of all was in the little 
Imps. They were each and all of a purer trans- 
parency of white than anything Timothy had 
ever conceived. And there was not one upon 
whose face did not play a smile of joy. Some of 
them were working harder than ever, while others 
were bathing in the fountains, darting and flut- 
tering in and out of the spray. They looked as 
light and brilliant as soap-bubbles in the sun, 
and flashing from their wings were all the colours 
of the rainbow. Indeed, the little Imps shone so 
brightly that Timothy could scarcely look at them. 

But while he was examining all these wonder- 
ful changes with admiration, he heard a silver 
trumpet ring through the edifice. And as its 
sweet notes died away among the pearl arches, 
the little Imps with myriad voices, as sweet and 
clear as the trumpet-call, sang: — 

" Lightly we rise 
In the azure skies I 
Lightly we dart away ! 
Lightly we roam 
Through the boundless dome I 
Or in pathless depths we stray ! 

Bright little, 

White little, 

Light little 



" When we would try 
How high we can fly \ 
When we would gaze 
On His brightest rays, 
When through glory we range, 
In colours strange, 
Lightly we turn to God I 

There hide! 

There abide I 

Bright little, 

White little, 

Light little 


Then the most amazing thing of all happened. 
Timothy Tuttle, Esquire, suddenly found him- 
self lying once more on the soft, comfortable sofa 
in his own home. The gas-light was flashing over 
the rich rug and rosewood furniture, just as it 
had done when he had last seen the room. He 
raised himself on his elbow and looked around, 
but not one of the little Imps was there. Indeed, 
he could find no traces of them except the marks 
of their tiny black feet on the rug. 

But from that day forward Timothy was a 
changed man. His face was no longer hard 
and selfish, but it beamed with good and kind 
thoughts. He no longer preferred wealth to 
everything else in the world. He gave up the 
plan for his fine new mansion — indeed, he no 
longer wished for one — and he spent the re- 
mainder of his days making his family and 
friends happy, and relieving the poor and needy. 

Dr. John Todd (Adapted) 


Once upon a time there was a little Fairy who 
was remarkable for her impatience and laziness. 
She was called Fairy Butterfly because she had 
such splendid green wings with silver spots on 
them. She loved dearly to be dressed in gorgeous 
colours, and to sleep in the rich chambers of the 
Foxgloves, or to flutter over beds of fragrant 
Mignonette. In truth, she was as luxurious a 
little Fairy as the sun ever shone on. So much 
did she like her ease that she would not gather a 
single dew-drop to bathe her face, nor would 
she pick a fresh rose-petal for a napkin. She 
played all day long, or slept curled up in the heart 
of a flower. Oh, she was a lazy Fairy! 

When the Queen of the Fairies observed the 
faults of Butterfly, she resolved to help her to 
correct them. One day she summoned the lazy 
one to Court, and said : — 

" Fairy Butterfly, we command you to go at 
once to the Green Cavern in the Island of Cey- 
lon, and remain there until you have fashioned 
a diamond more pure and brilliant than any that 
has ever rested on the brow of mortal or Elf." 

Little Butterfly bowed in silence and with- 
drew. As soon as she was outside the green 


mound in which the Fairy Queen held her Court, 
she burst into a passionate flood of tears. 

"I shall have to watch that diamond for 
months and months and years and years," 
sobbed she, "and every day I must turn it over 
with my wand so that the crystals will form 
evenly! Oh, it is an endless labour to make a 
diamond! Oh, I am a most wretched Fairy!" 

So she sat, and sobbed, and murmured for 
several minutes. Then she jumped up and 
stamped her little feet on the ground so furiously 
that the blue-eyed grasses trembled. 

"I won't bear it!" she exclaimed. "I'll run 
away to the Fairies of the Air. I am sure they 
will be so pleased with my beauty that they will 
feed me, and I shall never need to work again ! As 
for the diamond, why, it is just impossible for a 
little Fairy like me to make it!" 

Then she peeped into a fountain to admire 
herself, and saw, alas! that the splendid green of 
her wings had faded, and the silver spots were 
dim. For, if Fairies have naughty thoughts, 
their wings always droop and their beauty fades. 
At this sight, little Butterfly wept aloud with 
vexation and shame. 

"I suppose the old tyrant, our Queen, thinks 
that now I am so ugly, I'll hide myself in the 
Green Cavern in the Island of Ceylon! But I'll 
let her see that I do not care about her!" And, 


alas! as Butterfly spoke thus, the silver spots dis- 
appeared entirely, and her wings became a dirty 

Trembling with anger, the little one waved her 
wand, and called: — 

* * Hummingbird ! Hummingbird! 
Come nigh! Come nigh! 
And carry me off 
To the far Blue Sky 7" 

In an instant a tiny hummingbird, shining like 
a jewel, alighted at her feet. She sprang on his 
back, and away they flew to the golden clouds in 
the West where the Queen of the Air Fairies 
held her Court. And when the Queen and all 
her Fairies saw Butterfly's dirty brown wings, 
they waved their wands and vanished. And little 
Butterfly was left alone in the Palace of the Air. 

But such a beautiful palace as it was! The 
clouds hung around it like transparent curtains 
of opal. The floor was paved with a rainbow. 
Thousands of gorgeous birds fluttered in the sun- 
light, and a multitude of voices filled the place 
with sweet sounds. Butterfly, fatigued by her 
flight through the sky and lulled by the voices, 
lay down on a rosy cloud, and fell into a gentle 

When she awoke, she saw that a tiny bird, 
smaller than the hummingbird," was building a 
nest beside her. Straw after straw, shred after 


shred, the patient little creature brought in her 
bill and wove together. And then she flew away 
over hills and fields to find soft down with which 
to line the nest. 

"She is a foolish thing!" murmured Butterfly. 
"How hard she works, and I don't believe that 
she will finish it after all!" 

But soon the bird came back with her bill full 
of down, and lined the soft warm nest so that 
it was fit for a Fairy to sleep in. Butterfly 
peeped into it, and exclaimed, "Oh, what a pretty 

Immediately she heard the tinkling of a lute, 
and a clear voice singing: — 

"Bit by bit the bird builds her nest!" 

She started up, and the Queen of the Air 
Fairies stood before her, clad in a robe of azure 
gossamer, embroidered with rainbow lights. 

"Foolish Butterfly," said she, "we allow no 
idlers here. Obey your Queen, and go at once to 
the Green Cavern in the Island of Ceylon. Time 
and patience will accomplish all things. Go and 
make your diamond, and then you shall be wel- 
come here." Butterfly tried to tell her how very 
hard it was to make a diamond, but the Queen 
of the Air Fairies flew away, touching her lute, 
and singing: — 

"Bit by bit the bird builds her nest!" 


Butterfly leaned her head upon her hands for 
a minute. She began to be ashamed of being so 
lazy, but she did not yet wish to go to the lonely 
Green Cavern, and work hard. So she waved her 
wand, and called again: — 

* * Hummingbird 1 Hummingbird I 
Come nigh! Come nigh! 
And carry me back 
Through the clear Blue Sky!" 

Immediately the little hummingbird returned, 
and she sprang on his back. He flew down with 
her, and she alighted near the green mound in- 
side of which the Fairy Queen held her Court. 

Close by the mound Butterfly saw some bees 
working in a crystal hive. Wearily and sadly she 
watched them. They left the hive, dipped into 
flowers, and carried their loads of sweet pollen 
back to the hive, and there they built their wax 
combs filled with golden honey. "I wish," 
thought she, "that I loved to work as hard as 
the bees do! But as for that diamond, it is use- 
less to think about it! I should never finish it!" 

Just then she heard strains of delightful music 
coming from the mound, and a chorus of Fairy 
voices singing: — 

"Little by little the bee builds its cell! " 

Butterfly could have wept when she heard 
those familiar voices, for she longed to be with 
her Fairy sisters dancing hand-in-hand. "I will 


make the diamond," murmured she. "I shall 
surely get it done sometime! And I can fly home 
every night and dance in the Fairy Ring, or sleep 
in the flowers!" 

Immediately a joyful strain of music rose on 
the air, and she heard her sisters' voices sing- 

"To the Green Cavern haste away! 
Sleep by night, and work by day! 
Little by little the gem will grow, 
Till pure as sunshine it will glow! " 

Alas! when Butterfly heard this, instead of 
flying at once to the Green Cavern, she began 
to think how hard she should have to work, and 
how many times she must turn the diamond. "I 
never can do it!" thought she. "I will go to the 
Queen of the Ocean Fairies. I am sure she will 
let me live in her Sea-Palace; and I need never 
work again!" 

Mournful notes came from the mound, as 

Butterfly turned toward the seashore. When she 

reached the beach, she waved her wand, and 

called : — 

"Nautilus! Nautilus! 
Come to me 
And carry me through 
The cold green Sea!" 

Immediately the delicate pearly boat of the 
nautilus came floating over the Ocean, and a 
wave landed it at Butterfly's feet. She stepped in, 


and down, down, under the waves she went, down 
to the bed of the Ocean, to a coral grove. And 
there was the magnificent palace of the Queen 
of the Ocean Fairies. Its pink coral pillars were 
twisted into a thousand beautiful forms. Pearls 
hung in deep festoons from the arches. The fan- 
coral and the sea-moss were formed into deep, 
cool bowers. And the hard, sandy floor was cov- 
ered with many-coloured shells. 

But as it had been in the Air, so it was in the 
Sea! When the Queen of the Ocean Fairies saw 
Butterfly's dirty brown wrings, she and all her 
Court waved their wands and disappeared. And 
Butterfly was left alone in the Sea-Palace.. 

"How beautiful it is!" cried she. "Giants 
must have made these coral pillars!" As she 
spoke her eyes were nearly blinded by a swarm of 
tiny insects, and she saw them rest on an unfin- 
ished coral pillar. While she looked and won- 
dered, she heard a thousand shell-trumpets being 
blown, and many voices singing: — 

"Mite by mite the insect builds the coral bower J" 

The sounds drew nearer and nearer, and a hun- 
dred Fairies, standing in beautiful shells, came 
floating through the water. In the largest shell 
of all was their Queen in a robe of wave-coloured 
silk spun by the Ocean silkworm. It was as thin 
as a spider's web, and the border was gracefully 
wrought with seed pearls. 


" Foolish Butterfly," said the Queen, " learn 
to be industrious. We allow no idlers at our 
Court. Look at the coral pillars of ray palace. 
They were made by these swarms of little crea- 
tures. Labour and patience did it all." 

And she waved her wand, and the hundred 
shells floated away, while all the Fairies sang: — 
"Mite by mite the insect builds the coral bower!" 

"Well!" said Butterfly, sighing. "All crea- 
tures are busy, on the earth, in the air, and under 
the water. All things seem happy at their work. 
Perhaps I can learn to be so, too. I will make the 
diamond. And it shall be as pure and brilliant as 
a sunbeam in a water-drop!" 

So Butterfly sought the Green Cavern in the 
Island of Ceylon. Day by day she worked as 
busily as the coral insects. She grew cheerful 
and happy. Her wings once more became a 
splendid green, and the silver spots were so 
bright that they seemed like sparks of fire. Never 
had she been so beautiful, never so much loved 
by the little birds and flowers. 

After seven years had passed by, Butterfly 
knelt at the feet of her Queen and offered her 
diamond. It gave light like a star, and the whole 
Fairy Mound shone with its rays. And to this 
day the Fairies call it "Butterfly's Diamond." 
Lydia Maria Child (Adapted) 


Have you seen the white mist over the River 
Yi in the morning — a light white mist that flies 
away when the sun gets hot? Yes? Then I will 
tell you a story about the white mist and a little 
girl named Alma. 

Little Alma lived close to the River Yi, but 
far, far from here, beyond the trees and beyond 
the blue hills, for the Yi is a very long river. She 
lived with her grandmother and with six uncles, 
all big, tall men with long beards, and they always 
talked about wars, and cattle, and a great many 
other important things that Alma could not 
understand. There was no one to talk to Alma 
and for Alma to talk to or to play with. And 
when she went out of the house where all the big 
people were talking, she heard the coeks crow- 
ing, the dogs barking, the birds singing, the sheep 
bleating, and the trees rustling their leaves over 
her head, and she could not understand one word 
of all they said. At last, having no one to play 
with or talk to, she sat down and began to cry. 

Now, it happened that near the spot where she 
sat there was an old black woman wearing a red 
shawl, who was gathering sticks for the fire, and 
she asked Alma why she cried. 


"Because I have no one to talk to and play 
with," said Alma. 

Then the old black woman drew a long brass 
pin out of her shawl, and pricked Alma's tongue 
with it, for she made Alma hold it out to be 

"Now," said the old woman, "you can go and 
play and talk with the dogs, cats, birds, and 
trees, for you will understand all they say, and 
they will understand all you say." 

Alma was very glad, and ran home as fast as 
she could to talk to the cat. 

"Come, cat, let us talk and play together," 
she said. 

"Oh, no," said the cat. "I am very busy 
watching a little bird, so you must go away and 
play with little Niebla down by the river." 

Then the cat ran away among the weeds and 
left her. The dogs also refused to play when she 
went to them, for they had to watch the house 
and bark at strangers. Then they also told her to 
go and play with little Niebla down by the river. 

Then Alma ran out, and caught a little duck- 
ling, a soft little thing, that looked like a ball of 
yellow cotton, and said: "Now, little duck, let 
us talk and play." 

But the duckling only struggled to get away, 
and screamed: "Oh, Mamma! Mamma! Come 
and take me away from Alma!" 


Then the old duck came rushing up, and said: 
"Alma, let my child alone; and if you want to 
play, go and play with Niebla down by the river. 
A nice thing to catch my duckie in your hands 
— what next, I wonder!" 

So she let the duckling go, and at last she said, 
"Yes, I will go and play with Niebla down by 
the river." 

She waited till she saw the white mist, and 
then ran all the way to the Yi, and stood still on 
the green bank close by the water with the white 
mist all round her. 

By and by she saw a beautiful little child come 
flying toward her in the white mist. The child 
came and stood on the green bank, and looked at 
Alma. Very, very pretty she was; and she wore 
a white dress — whiter than milk, whiter than 
foam, and all embroidered with purple flowers. 
She had also white silk stockings and scarlet 
shoes, bright as scarlet verbenas. Her hair was 
long and fluffy, and shone like gold, and round 
her neck she had a string of big, gold beads. 

Then Alma said, "Oh, beautiful little girl, what 
is your name?" 

To which the little girl answered: "Niebla." 

"Will you talk to me, and play with me?" said 

"Oh, no," said Niebla; "how can I play with a 
little girl dressed as you are, and with bare feet? " 


For, you know, poor Alma only wore a little 
old frock that came down to her knees, and she 
had no shoes and stockings on. 

Then little Niebla rose up and floated away, 
away from the bank and down the river. And 
at last, when she was quite out of sight in the 
white mist, Alma began to cry. When it got very 
hot, she went and sat down, still crying, under 
the trees. There were two very big willow trees 
growing near the river. By and by the leaves 
rustled in the wind, and the trees began talking 
to each other, and Alma understood everything 
they said. 

"Have you got any nests in 'your branches?" 
said one tree. 

"Yes, one," said the other tree. "It was made 
by a little yellow bird, and there are five speckled 
eggs in it." 

Then the first tree said: "There is little Alma 
sitting in our shade. Do you know why she is 
crying, Neighbour?" 

The other tree answered: "Yes, it is because 
she has no one to play with. Little Niebla by 
the river refused to play with her because she is 
not beautifully dressed." 

Then the first tree said: "Ah, she ought to go 
and ask the fox for some pretty clothes to wear. 
The fox always keeps a great store of pretty 
things in her hole." 


Alma had listened to every word of this con- 
versation. She remembered that a fox lived on 
the hillside not far off; for she had often seen it 
sitting in the sunshine, with its little ones play- 
ing round it and pulling their mother's tail in 

So Alma got up, and ran till she found the hole, 
and putting her head down it, she cried out: 
"Fox! Fox!" 

But the fox seemed cross, and only answered, 
without coming out, "Go away, Alma, and talk 
to little Niebla. I am busy getting dinner for 
my children, and have no time to talk to you 

Then Alma cried: "Oh, Fox, Niebla will not 
play with me because I have no pretty things 
to wear! Oh, Fox, will you give me a nice 
dress, and shoes and stockings, and a string of 

After a little while the fox came out of its hole 
with a big bundle done up in a red cotton hand- 
kerchief, and said: "Here are the things, Alma, 
and I hope they will fit you. But, you know, 
Alma, you really ought not to come at this time 
of day, for I am very busy just now cooking 
the dinner — an armadillo roasted and a couple 
of partridges stewed with rice, and a little ome- 
lette of turkeys' eggs — I mean plovers' eggs, 
of course; I never touch turkeys' eggs." 


Alma said she was very sorry to give so much 

"Oh, never mind," said the fox. "How is your 

"She is very well, thank you," said Alma, "but 
she has a bad headache." 

"I am very sorry to hear it," said the fox. 
"Tell her to stick two fresh dock-leaves on her 
temples, and on no account to go out in the hot 
sun. Give her my best respects. And now, run 
home, Alma, and try on the things, and when 
you are passing this way, you can bring me back 
the handkerchief, as I always tie my face up in 
it when I have the toothache." 

Alma thanked the fox very much, and ran 
home as fast as she could; and when the bundle 
was opened she found in it a beautiful white 
dress embroidered with purple flowers, a pair of 
scarlet shoes, silk stockings, and a string of great 
golden beads. 

They all fitted her very well; and next day, 
when the white mist was on the Yi, she dressed 
herself in her beautiful clothes, and went down 
to the river. By and by little Niebla came flying 
along; and when she saw Alma, she came and 
kissed her, and took her by the hand. All the 
morning they played and talked together, gath- 
ering flowers and running races over the green 
sward. And, at last, Niebla bade her good-bye, 


and flew away, for all the white mist was floating 
off down the river. 

But every day after that, Alma found her little 
companion by the Yi, and was very happy, for 
now she had some one to talk to and to play 

W. H. Hudson (Condensed) 


There was once a woman who wished very much 
to have a little child; so she went to a Fairy, and 
said: "I should so very much like to have a little 
child. Can you tell me where I may find one?" 

"Oh, that is easily managed," said the Fairy. 
"Here is a barley-corn of a different kind to 
those which grow in the farmers' fields, and which 
the chickens eat. Put it into a flower-pot, and 
see what will happen." 

" Thank you," said the woman, and she gave 
the Fairy twelve shillings, which was the price 
of the barley-corn. Then she went home and 
planted it, and immediately there grew up a 
large handsome flower, something like a tulip in 
appearance, but with its leaves tightly closed as 
if it was still a bud. 

"It is a beautiful flower," said the woman, 
and she kissed the red and golden-coloured leaves, 
and while she did so the flower opened, and she 
could see that it was a real tulip. 

Within the flower, upon the green velvet sta- 
mens, sat a very delicate and graceful little 
maiden. She was scarcely half as long as a 
thumb, and they gave her the name of "Little 
Thumb," or Tiny, because she was so small. A 


walnut-shell, elegantly polished, served her for 
a eradle. Her bed was formed of blue violet- 
leaves, with a rose-leaf for a counterpane. 

Here she slept at night, but during the day 
she amused herself on a table, where the woman 
had placed a plateful of water. Round this plate 
were wreaths of flowers with their stems in the 
water, and upon it floated a large tulip-leaf, 
which served Tiny for a boat. Here the little 
maiden sat and rowed herself from side to side, 
with two oars made of white horse-hair. It really 
was a very pretty sight. Tiny could, also, sing 
so softly and sweetly that nothing like her sing- 
ing had ever before been heard. 

One night, while she lay in her pretty bed, a 
large, ugly, wet toad crept through a broken 
pane of glass in the window, and leaped right 
up on the table where Tiny lay sleeping under her 
rose-leaf quilt. 

"What a pretty little wife this would make 
for my son!" said the toad, and she took up the 
walnut-shell in which little Tiny lay asleep, and 
jumped through the window with it into the 

In the swampy margin of a broad stream in 
the garden lived the toad, with her son. He was 
uglier even than his mother, and when he saw 
the pretty little maiden in her elegant bed, he 
could only cry: "Croak, croak, croalc." 


"Don't speak so loud, or she will wake," said 
the toad, "and then she might run away, for she 
is as light as sv/an's down. We will place her on 
one of the water-lily leaves out in the stream. It 
will be like an island to her, she is so light and 
small, and then she cannot escape. And, while 
she is away, we will make haste and prepare the 
state-room under the marsh, in which you are to 
live when you are married." 

Far out in the stream grew a number of water- 
lilies, with broad green leaves, which seemed to 
float on the top of the water. The largest of 
these leaves appeared farther off than the rest, 
and the old toad swam out to it with the walnut- 
shell, in which little Tiny lay still asleep. 

The little creature woke very early in the 
morning, and began to cry bitterly when she 
found where she was, for she could see nothing 
but water on every side of the large green leaf, 
and no way of reaching the land. 

Meanwhile the old toad was very busy under 
the marsh, decking her room with rushes and wild 
yellow flowers, to make it look pretty for her 
new daughter-in-law. Then she swam out with 
her ugly son to the leaf on which she had placed 
poor little Tiny. She wanted to fetch the pretty 
bed, that she might put it in the bridal chamber 
to be ready for her. 

The old toad bowed low to her in the water, 


and said: "Here is my son. He will be your hus- 
band, and you will live happily together in the 
marsh by the stream." 

"Croak, croak, croak," was all her son could 
say for himself. So the toad took up the elegant 
little bed, and swam away with it, leaving Tiny 
all alone on the green leaf, where she sat and 
wept. She could not bear to think of living w T ith 
the old toad, and having her ugly son for a hus- 

The little fishes, who swam about in the water, 
had seen the toad, and heard what she said, so 
they lifted their heads above the water to look 
at the little maiden. As soon as they caught sight 
of her, they saw she was very pretty, and it made 
them sorry to think that she must go and live 
with the ugly toads. "No, it must never be!" 
so they assembled together in the water, round 
the green stalk w T hich held the leaf on which the 
little maiden stood, and gnawed it away at the 
root with their teeth. Then the leaf floated 
down the stream, carrying Tiny far away. 

Tiny sailed past many towns, and the little 
birds in the bushes saw her, and sang: "What a 
lovely little creature!" So the leaf swam away 
with her farther and farther, till it brought her 
to other lands. A graceful little white butterfly 
constantly fluttered round her, and at last 
alighted on the leaf. Tiny pleased him, and she 


was glad of it, for now the toad could not pos- 
sibly reach her, and the country through which 
she sailed was beautiful, and the sun shone upon 
the water, till it glittered like liquid gold. She 
took off her girdle and tied one end of it round 
the butterfly, and the other end of the ribbon she 
fastened to the leaf, which now glided on much 
faster than ever, taking little Tiny with it as she 

Presently a large cockchafer flew by. The 
moment he caught sight of her, he seized her 
round her delicate waist with his claws, and flew 
with her into a tree. The green leaf floated away 
on the brook, and the butterfly flew with it, for 
he was fastened to it, and could not get away. 

Oh, how frightened little Tiny felt when the 
cockchafer flew w T ith her to the tree! But es- 
pecially was she sorry for the beautiful w T hite 
butterfly which she had fastened to the leaf, for 
if he could not free himself he would die of hun- 
ger. But the cockchafer did not trouble himself 
at all about the matter. He seated himself by 
her side on a large green leaf, gave her some honey 
from the flowers to eat, and told her she was very 
pretty, though not in the least like a cockchafer. 
After a time, all the cockchafers who lived in the 
tree came to visit her. They stared at Tiny, 
and then the young lady-cockchafers turned up 
their feelers, and said: "She has only two legs! 


how ugly that looks." " She has no feelers," said 
another. " Her waist is quite slim. Pooh ! she is 
like a human being." 

"Oh! she is ugly!" said all the lady-cockchafers, 
although Tiny was very pretty. Then the cock- 
chafer who had run away with her, believed all 
the others when they said she was ugly, and 
would have nothing more to say to her, and told 
her she might go where she liked. Then he flew 
down with her from the tree, and placed her 
on a daisy, and she wept at the thought that she 
was so ugly that even the cockchafers would 
have nothing to say to her. And all the while she 
was really the loveliest creature that one could 
imagine, and as tender and delicate as a beau- 
tiful rose-leaf! 

During the whole summer poor little Tiny 
lived quite alone in the wide forest. She wove 
herself a bed with blades of grass, and hung it up 
under a broad leaf, to protect herself from the 
rain. She sucked the honey from the flowers for 
food, and drank the dew from their leaves every 
morning. So passed away the Summer and the 
Autumn, and then came the Winter, — the long, 
cold Winter. 

All the birds who had sung to her so sweetly 
were flown away, and the trees and the flowers 
had withered. The large clover leaf under the 
shelter of which she had lived, was now rolled 


together and shrivelled up, nothing remained 
but a yellow withered stalk. She felt dreadfully 
cold, for her clothes were torn, and she was her- 
self so frail and delicate, that, poor little thing, 
she was nearly frozen to death ! It began to snow 
too; and the snow-flakes, as they fell upon her, 
were like a whole shovelful falling upon one of 
us, for we are tall, but she was only an inch high. 
Then she wrapped herself up in a dry leaf, but 
it cracked in the middle and could not keep her 
warm, and she shivered with cold. 

Near the wood in which she had been living 
lay a large corn-field, but the corn had been cut 
a long time; nothing remained but the bare dry 
stubble standing up out of the frozen ground. It 
was to her like struggling through a large wood. 
Oh! how she shivered with the cold. She came 
at last to the door of a field-mouse, who had a 
little den under the corn-stubble. There dwelt 
the field-mouse in warmth and comfort, with a 
whole roomful of corn, a kitchen, and a beauti- 
ful dining-room. Poor little Tiny stood before 
the door just like a little beggar-girl, and begged 
for a small piece of barley-corn, for she had been 
without a morsel to eat for two days. 

"You poor little creature," said the field- 
mouse, who was really a good old field-mouse, 
"come into my warm room and dine with me." 
She was very pleased with Tiny, so she said : 


"You are quite welcome to stay with me all the 
Winter, if you like; but you must keep my rooms 
clean and neat, and tell me stories, for I shall 
like to hear them very much." And Tiny did 
all the field-mouse asked her, and found herself 
very comfortable. 

"We shall have a visitor soon," said the field- 
mouse one day. "My neighbour pays me a visit 
once a week. He is better off than I am. He has 
large rooms, and wears a beautiful black velvet 
coat. If you could only have him for a husband, 
you would be well provided for indeed! But he 
is blind, so you must tell him some of your pret- 
tiest stories." 

But Tiny did not feel at all interested about 
this neighbour, for he was a mole. However, he 
came and paid his visit, dressed in his black vel- 
vet coat. 

"He is very rich and learned, and his house is 
twenty times larger than mine," said the field- 

He was rich and learned, no doubt, but he 
always spoke slightingly of the sun and the 
pretty flowers, because he had never seen them. 
Tiny was obliged to sing to him: "Lady-bird, 
lady-bird, fly away home," and many other pretty 
songs. And the mole fell in love with her because 
she had such a sweet voice. But he said nothing 
yet, for he was very cautious. 


A short time before, the mole had dug a long 
passage under the earth, which led from the dwell- 
ing of the field-mouse to his own, and here she 
had permission to walk with Tiny whenever she 
liked. But he warned them not to be alarmed at 
the sight of a dead bird which lay in the passage. 
It was a perfect bird, with a beak and feathers, 
and could not have been dead long, and was ly- 
ing just where the mole had made his passage. 

The mole took a piece of phosphorescent wood 
in his mouth, and it glittered like fire in the dark. 
Then he went before them to light them through 
the long, dark passage. When they came to the 
spot where lay the dead bird, the mole pushed 
his broad nose through the ceiling, the earth 
gave way, so that there was a large hole, and the 
daylight shone into the passage. 

In the middle of the floor lay the dead swal- 
low, his beautiful wings pulled close to his sides, 
his feet and his head drawn up under his feathers. 
The poor bird had evidently died of the cold. 
It made little Tiny very sad to see it, she did so 
love the little birds. All the Summer they had 
sung and twittered for her so beautifully. 

But the mole pushed it aside with his crooked 
legs, and said: "He will sing no more now. How 
miserable it must be to be born a little bird! I 
am thankful that none of my children will ever be 
birds, for they can do nothing but cry, 'Tweet, 


tweet,' and always die of hunger in the Win- 

"Yes, you may well say that, you clever man ! " 
exclaimed the field-mouse. "What is the use of 
his twittering, for when Winter comes he must 
either starve or be frozen to death. Still, birds 
are very high-bred." 

Tiny said nothing; but when the others had 
turned their backs on the bird, she stooped down 
and stroked aside the soft feathers which covered 
the head, and kissed the closed eyelids. "Per- 
haps this was the one who sang to me so sweetly 
in the Summer," she said; "and how much pleas- 
ure it gave me, you dear, pretty bird." 

The mole now stopped up the hole through 
which the daylight shone, and then accompanied 
Tiny and the field-mouse home. 

But during the night Tiny could not sleep; so 
she got out of bed and wove a large, beautiful 
carpet of hay. Then she carried it to the dead 
bird, and spread it over him, with some down 
from the flowers which she had found in the field- 
mouse's room. The down was as soft as wool, and 
she spread some of it on each side of the bird, 
so that he might lie warmly in the cold earth. 

"Farewell, you pretty little bird!" said she, 
"farewell! Thank you for your delightful sing- 
ing during the Summer, when all the trees were 
green, and the warm sun shone upon us." 


Then she laid her head on the bird's breast, but 
she was alarmed immediately, for it seemed as if 
something inside the bird went "thump, thump." 
It was the bird's heart! He was not really dead, 
only benumbed with the cold, and the warmth 
had restored him to life. In Autumn all the swal- 
lows fly away into warm countries, but if one 
happens to linger, the cold seizes it, it becomes 
frozen, and falls down as if dead. It remains 
where it fell, and the cold snow covers it. Tiny 
trembled very much. She was quite frightened, 
for the bird was large, a great deal larger than 
herself — she was only an inch high. But she 
took courage, laid the wool more thickly over the 
poor swallow, and then took a leaf which she had 
used for her own counterpane, and laid it over 
the head of the poor bird. 

The next morning she again stole out to see 
him. He was alive but very weak. He could 
only open his eyes for a moment to look at Tiny, 
who stood by holding a piece of decayed wood 
in her hand, for she had no other lantern. 

"Thank you, pretty little maiden," said the 
sick swallow; "I have been so nicely warmed, 
that I shall soon regain my strength, and be able 
to fly about in the warm sunshine." 

"Oh," said she, "it is cold out of doors now. It 
snows and freezes. Stay in your warm bed. I 
will take care of you." 


Then she brought the swallow some water in 
a flower-leaf, and after he had drunk, he told her 
that he had wounded one of his wings in a thorn- 
bush, and could not fly so fast as the other birds, 
who were soon far away on their journey to warm 
countries. Then at last he had fallen to the 
earth, and could remember no more nor how he 
came to be where she had found him. 

The whole Winter the swallow remained under- 
ground, and Tiny nursed him with care and love. 
Neither the mole nor the field-mouse knew any- 
thing about it, for they did not like swallows. 
Very soon the Spring-time came, and the sun 
warmed the earth. Then the swallow bade fare- 
well to Tiny, and she opened the hole in the ceil- 
ing which the mole had made. The sun shone in 
upon them so beautifully that the swallow asked 
her if she would go with him. She could sit on 
his back, he said, and he would fly away with 
her into the green woods. But Tiny knew it 
would make the field-mouse very grieved if she 
left her in that manner, so she said: "No, I 

"Farewell, then, farewell, you good, pretty, 
little maiden!" said the swallow. And he flew 
out into the sunshine. 

Tiny looked after him, and the tears rose in 
her eyes. She was very fond of the poor swallow. 

"Tweet! Tweet!" sang the bird, as he flew 


out into the green woods, and Tiny felt sad. She 
was not allowed to go out into the warm sunshine. 
The corn which had been sown in the field over 
the house of the field-mouse had grown up high 
into the air, and formed a thick wood to Tiny, 
who was only an inch high. 

"You are going to be married, Tiny," said the 
field-mouse. "My neighbour has asked for you. 
What good fortune for a poor child like you! 
Now we will prepare your wedding clothes. 
They must be both woollen and linen. Nothing 
must be wanting when you are the mole's 

Tiny had to turn the spindle; and the field- 
mouse hired four spiders, who were to weave 
day and night. Every evening the mole visited 
her, and was continually speaking of the time 
when the Summer would be over. Then he would 
keep his wedding-day with Tiny. But now the 
heat of the sun was so great that it burned 
the earth, and made it quite hard, like a stone. 
As soon as the Summer was over, the wedding 
should take place. 

But Tiny was not at all pleased; for she did 
not like the tiresome mole. Every morning when 
the sun rose, and every evening when it went 
down, she would creep out at the door, and as 
the wind blew aside the ears of corn, so that she 
could see the blue sky, she thought how beautiful 


and bright it seemed out there, and wished so 
much to see her dear swallow again. But he 
never returned; for by this time he had flown far 
aw r ay into the lovely green forest. 

When Autumn arrived, Tiny had her outfit 
quite ready; and the field-mouse said to her: "In 
four weeks the wedding must take place." 

Then Tiny wept, and said she would not marry 
the disagreeable mole. 

"Nonsense," replied the field-mouse. "Now, 
don't be obstinate, or I shall bite you with my 
white teeth. He is a very handsome mole. The 
Queen herself does not wear more beautiful vel- 
vets and furs. His kitchen and cellars are quite 
full. You ought to be very thankful for sueh 
good fortune." 

So the wedding-day was fixed, on which the 
mole was to fetch Tiny away to live with him, 
deep under the earth, and never again to see 
the warm sun, because he did not like it. The 
poor child was most unhappy at the thought of 
saying farewell to the beautiful sun; and, as the 
field-mouse had given her permission to stand 
at the door, she went to look at it once more. 

"Farewell, bright sun!" she cried, stretching 
out her arm toward it. And then she walked a 
short distance from the house; for the corn had 
been cut, and only the dry stubble remained in 
the fields. "Farewell! Farewell!" she repeated, 


twining her arm round a little red flower that 
grew just by her side. "Greet the little swallow 
from me, if you should see him again." 

"Tweet! Tweet!" sounded over her head sud- 
denly. She looked up, and there was the swallow 
himself flying close by. As soon as he spied Tiny, 
he was delighted; and then she told him how un- 
willing she felt to marry the ugly mole, and to 
live always beneath the earth, and never to see 
the bright sun any more. And as she told him 
she wept. 

"Cold Winter is coming," said the swallow, 
"and I am going to fly away into warmer coun- 
tries. Will you go with me? You can sit on my 
back, and fasten yourself on with your sash. 
Then we can fly away from the ugly mole and 
his gloomy rooms — far away, over the moun- 
tains, into warmer countries, where the sun shines 
more brightly than here; where it is always Sum- 
mer, and the flowers bloom in greater beauty. 
Fly now with me, dear little Tiny! You saved 
my life when I lay frozen in that dark, dreary 

"Yes, I will go with you," said Tiny. And she 
seated herself on the bird's back, with her feet 
on his outstretched wings, and tied her girdle 
to one of his strongest feathers. 

Then the swallow rose in the air, and flew over 
forest and over sea, high above the highest moun- 


tains, covered with eternal snow. Tiny would 
have been frozen in the cold air, but she crept 
under the bird's warm feathers, keeping her lit- 
tle head uncovered, so that she might admire the 
beautiful lands over which they passed. 

At length they reached the warm countries, 
where the sun shines brightly, and the sky seems 
so much higher above the earth. Here, on the 
hedges, and by the wayside, grew purple, green, 
and white grapes; lemons and oranges huug from 
trees in the woods; and the air was fragrant with 
myrtles and orange blossoms. Beautiful children 
ran along the country lanes, playing with large 
gay butterflies. And, as the swallow flew farther 
and farther, every place appeared still more 

At last they came to a blue lake, and by the 
side of it, shaded by trees of the deepest green, 
stood a palace of dazzling white marble, built 
in the olden times. Vines clustered round its 
lofty pillars, and at the top were many swal- 
lows' nests, and one of these was the home of 
the swallow who carried Tiny. 

"This is my house/' said the swallow; "but it 
would not do for you to live there — you would 
not be comfortable. You must choose for your- 
self one of those lovely flowers, and I will put 
you down upon it, and then you shall have every- 
thing that you can wish to make you happy." 


"That will be delightful ! " she said, and clapped 
her little hands for joy. 

A large marble pillar lay on the ground, which, 
in falling, had been broken into three pieces. 
Between these pieces grew the most beautiful 
large white flowers; so the swallow flew down 
with Tiny, and placed her on one of the broad 
leaves. But how surprised she was to see, in the 
middle of the flowers, a tiny little man, as white 
and transparent as if he had been made of crystal ! 
He had a gold crown on his head, and delicate 
wings at his shoulders, and was not much larger 
than Tiny herself . He was the Fairy of the flower; 
for a tiny man and a tiny woman dwell in every 
flower; and this was the King of them all. 

"Oh, how beautiful he is!" whispered Tiny 
to the swallow. 

The little King was at first quite frightened 
at the bird, who was like a giant compared to 
such a delicate little creature as himself. But 
when he saw Tiny, he was delighted, and thought 
her the prettiest little maiden he had ever seen. 
He took the gold crown from his head, and placed 
it on hers, and asked her name, and if she would 
be his wife, and Queen over all the flowers. 

This certainly was a very different sort of hus- 
band to the son of the toad, or the mole, with his 
black velvet and fur; so she said "Yes," to the 
handsome King. 


Then all the flowers opened, and out of each 
came a little lady or a tiny lord, all so pretty it 
was quite a pleasure to look at them. Each of 
them brought Tiny a present. But the best gift 
was a pair of beautiful wings, which had belonged 
to a large white fly, and they fastened them 
to Tiny's shoulders, so that she might fly from 
flower to flower. 

Then there was much rejoicing, and the little 
swallow, who sat above them, in his nest, was 
asked to sing a wedding song, which he did as 
well as he could; but in his heart he felt sad, for 
he was very fond of Tiny, and would have liked 
never to part from her again. 

"You must not be called Tiny any more," 
said the Fairy of the flowers to her. "It is an 
ugly name, and you are so very pretty. We 
will call you Maia." 

"Farewell! Farewell!" said the swallow, with 
a heavy heart as he left the warm countries, to 
fly back into Denmark. There he had a nest 
over the window of a house in which dwelt the 
writer of Fairy tales. The swallow sang, "Tweet! 
Tweet!" And from his song came this whole, 

Hans Christian Andersen 


In ancient times two little Princesses lived in 
Scotland, one of whom was extremely beautiful, 
and the other dwarfish, dark-coloured, and de- 
formed. One was named Rose, and the other 

The sisters did not live happily together. 
Marion hated Rose because the latter was hand- 
some and everybody praised her. So Marion 
scowled and her face grew absolutely black when 
anybody asked her how her pretty little sister 
was. And once she was so wicked and jealous 
that she cut off all Rose's glossy golden hair, and 
threw it in the fire. Poor Rose cried bitterly 
about it, but she did not scold or strike her sis- 
ter, for she was an amiable and gentle little be- 

No wonder, then, that all the family and all 
the neighbours disliked Marion; and no w T onder 
that her face grew uglier and uglier every day. 
But the neighbours used to say that Rose had 
been blessed by the Fairies, to whom she owed 
her extraordinary beauty and goodness. 

Not far from the castle where the Princesses 
resided was a deep grotto, said to lead to the 
Palace of Beauty where the Queen of the Fairies 


held her Court. Some said that Rose had fallen 
asleep there one day when she was tired of chas- 
ing a butterfly, and that the Queen had dipped 
her in an Immortal Fountain, from which she 
had risen with the beauty of an angel. Marion 
often asked Rose about this story, but the child 
always replied that she was forbidden to speak 
of it. When Rose saw any uncommon bird or 
butterfly, she would exclaim: "Oh, how much 
that looks like Fairyland!" But when asked 
what she knew about Fairyland, she blushed and 
would not answer. 

Marion thought a great deal about this. "Why 
can I not go to the Palace of Beauty?" thought 
she. "And why may I not bathe in the Immor- 
tal Fountain?" 

One Summer's noon, when all was still save 
the faint twitterings of birds and the lazy hum of 
bees, Marion entered the deep grotto. She sat 
down on a bank of moss. The air around her 
was as fragrant as if it came from a bed of violets. 
And with the far-off sound of music in her ears, 
she fell into a gentle slumber. 

When she awoke it was evening, and she found 
herself in a small hall, where opal pillars sup- 
ported a rainbow roof, the bright reflection of 
which rested on crystal walls and on a golden 
floor inlaid with pearls. All around, between the 
opal pillars, stood the tiniest vases of pure ala- 


baster, in which grew a multitude of brilliant 
and fragrant flowers; some of which, twining 
around the pillars, were lost in the floating rain- 
bow above. This scene of beauty was lighted by 
millions of fireflies glittering in the air like wan- 
dering stars. 

While Marion was gazing in amazement at all 
this, a little lady of rare loveliness stood before 
her. Her robe was of green and gold. Her flow- 
ing gossamer mantle was caught upon one shoul- 
der with a pearl, and in her hair was a solitary 
star composed of five diamonds, each no bigger 
than a pin point. She smiled at Marion and 
sang: — 

" The Fairy Queen 

Hath rarely seen 
Creature of earthly mould 

Within her door 

On 'pearly floor 
Inlaid with shining gold 1 
Mortal, all thou seest is fair I 
Quick 1 Thy purposes declare 1 " 

As she concluded, the song was taken up and 
thrice repeated by a multitude of soft voices in 
the distance. It seemed as if birds and insects 
joined in the chorus; and ever and anon between 
the pauses, the sound of a cascade was heard, 
whose waters fell in music. 

All these delightful sounds died away, and the 
Queen of the Fairies stood patiently awaiting 


Marion's answer. Curtsying low, and w T ith a 
trembling voice, the little maiden said: — 

"Will it please Your Majesty to make me as 
handsome as my sister Rose?" 

The Queen smiled again. "I will grant your 
request," said she, "if you will promise to fulfil 
all the conditions I propose." 

Marion eagerly promised that she would. 

"The Immortal Fountain," continued the 
Queen, "is on the top of a high, steep hill. At 
four different places Fairies are stationed around 
it, who guard it with their wands. None can 
pass except those who obey my orders. Go home 
now. For one week speak no ungentle word to 
your sister. At the end of that time come again 
to the grotto." 

Marion went home light of heart. Rose was 
in the garden, watering flowers. And the first 
thing Marion observed was that her sister's 
sunny hair had grown as long and beautiful as 
before it was cut off. The sight made her angry, 
and she was just about to snatch the watering- 
pot from Rose's hand with cross words, when 
she remembered the Fairy, and passed into the 
castle in silence. 

The end of the week arrived, and Marion had 
faithfully kept her promise. Again she entered 
the grotto. The Queen was feasting when 
Marion reached the hall with opal pillars. The 


bees had brought, as a gift, golden honey, and 
placed it on small rose-coloured shells which 
adorned a crystal table. Bright butterflies 
floated about the head of the Queen, and fanned 
her with their wings. Fireflies flew near to give 
her light. And a large diamond beetle formed 
her footstool. After she had supped, a dew-drop 
on a violet petal was brought her to bathe her 
royal fingers. 

Behind the Queen's chair hovered numerous 
bright Fairies, but when Marion entered the 
diamond sparkles on their wings faded as they 
always do in the presence of anything bad. And 
in a second all the Queen's attendants vanished, 
singing as they went: — 

" The Fairy Queen 

Hath rarely seen 
Creature of mortal mould 

Within her door 

On pearly floor 
Inlaid with shining gold /" 

"Mortal, have you fulfilled your promise?" 
asked the Queen. 

"I have," replied the maiden. 

"Then follow me." 

Marion did as she was directed, and away 
they hastened over beds of Violets and Mignon- 
ette. Birds sang, butterflies fluttered, and the 
voices of many fountains came on the breeze. 

Presently they reached the hill on the top of 


which was the Immortal Fountain. The foot of 
the hill was surrounded by a band of Fairies 
clothed in green gossamer, and with their ivory 
wands crossed to bar the ascent. The Queen 
waved her wand over them, and immediately 
they stretched their transparent wings and flew 

The hill was steep, and far, far up climbed the 
Queen and Marion. The air became more and 
more fragrant; and more and more distinctly 
they heard the sound of waters falling in music. 
At length they were stopped by another band 
of Fairies, clothed in blue gossamer, with silver 
wands crossed. 

"Here," said the Queen, "our journey must 
end. You can go no farther until you have ful- 
filled the orders I shall give you. Go home now. 
For one month do by your sister as you would 
wish her to do by you, if you were Rose and she 

Marion promised and departed. She found the 
task harder than the first had been. When Rose 
asked her for playthings, she found it hard to 
give them gently and affectionately. When Rose 
talked to her, she wanted to go away in silence. 
And when a pocket mirror was found in her sis- 
ter's room, broken into a thousand pieces, she 
felt sorely tempted to conceal that she had done 
the mischief. But she was so anxious to be made 


beautiful that she did as she wished to be done 

All the household remarked how Marion had 

"I love her dearly!" said Rose; "she is so 
good and amiable." 

"So do I!" said a dozen voices. 

Marion blushed deeply, and her eyes sparkled 
with pleasure. "How pleasant it is to be loved!" 
thought she. 

At the end of the month she went to the grotto 
again. Again the Fairy Queen conducted her up 
the hill, and this time the Fairies in blue lowered 
their silver wands and flew away. The two trav- 
elled on, higher and higher. The path grew 
steeper and steeper, but the fragrant air became 
more delicious, and more distinctly was heard 
the sound of waters falling in music. 

At length their course was stayed by a troop 
of Fairies clothed in rainbow robes, and hold- 
ing silver wands tipped with gold. In face and 
form they were far more beautiful than anything 
Marion had yet seen. 

"Here w T e must pause," said the Queen. "This 
boundary you cannot yet pass." 

"Why not?" asked the impatient Marion. 

"Because those who pass the Rainbow Fair- 
ies must be very pure," replied the Queen. 

"Am I not very pure?" asked the maiden. "All 


the people in the castle tell me how good I have 

"Mortal eyes see only the outside," answered 
the Queen. "But those who pass the Rainbow 
Fairies must be pure in thought as well as action. 
Go home now. For three months never indulge 
in a wicked or envious thought. You shall then 
have a glimpse of the Immortal Fountain." 

Marion returned home. At the end of three 
months she again visited the hall with opal pil- 
lars. The Queen did not smile when she saw her; 
but in silence led the way up the hill toward the 
Immortal Fountain. The Green Fairies and the 
Blue Fairies flew away as they approached; but 
the Rainbow Fairies bowed low to the Queen, 
and kept their gold-tipped wands firmly crossed. 

Marion saw that the silver specks on the 
Fairies' wings began to grow dim, and she burst 
into tears. 

"I knew," said the Queen, "that you could 
not pass this boundary. Envy has been in your 
heart. But be not discouraged, for years you 
have been indulging in wrong feelings; and you 
must not wonder if it takes many months to drive 
them out. Go home and try once more." 

So poor Marion went sadly away. And when 
she visited the hall again, the Queen smiled, 
and touched her playfully with her wand. She 
then led her up the hill to the Immortal Foun- 


tain. The silver specks on the wings of the Rain- 
bow Fairies shone bright as Marion approached, 
and the Fairies lowered their wings and flew 

And now every footstep was on flowers that 
yielded beneath the feet like a pathway of clouds. 
The delicious fragrance could almost be felt, 
and loud and clear and sweet came the sound of 
waters falling in music. And now Marion could 
see a cascade leaping and sparkling over crystal 
rocks. Above it rested a rainbow. The spray 
fell in pearls forming delicate foliage around the 
margin of the Fountain. And deep and silent 
below the foam of the cascade was the Immortal 
Fountain of Beauty. Its amber-coloured waves 
flowed over a golden bed, and many Fairies were 
bathing in its waves, the diamonds in their hair 
gleaming like sunbeams on the water. 

"Oh, let me bathe in the Fountain!" cried 
Marion, clapping her hands in delight. 

"Not yet," said the Queen. "Behold the Pur- 
ple Fairies with golden wands that guard its 

Marion looked, and saw Beings lovelier than 
any her eye had ever rested on. 

"You cannot pass them yet," said the Queen. 
"Go home. For one year drive from your heart 
all evil feelings, not for the sake of bathing in 
this Fountain, but because goodness is lovely 


and desirable for its own sake. Then your work 
is done." 

Marion returned home. This was the hardest 
task of all. For she had been willing to be good, 
not because it was right, but because she wished 
to be beautiful. Three times she sought the 
grotto, and three times she left in tears, for the 
golden specks on the wings of the Purple Fairies 
grew dim as she approached, and the golden 
w T ands were still crossed to shut her from the 
Immortal Fountain. 

But the fourth time the Purple Fairies lowered 

their wands, singing: — 

" Thou hast scaled the mountain, 
Go y bathe in the Fountain; 
Rise fair to the sight, 
As an angel of light; 
Go bathe in the Fountain I" 

Marion, full of joy, was about to plunge in, but 
the Queen touched her, saying: — 

"Look in the mirror of the water. Art thou 
not already as beautiful as heart can wish?" 

Marion looked at herself, and saw that her 
eyes sparkled with new lustre, a bright colour 
shone in her cheeks, her hair waved softly about 
her face, and dimples played sweetly around her 

"But I have not touched the Immortal Foun- 
tain!" cried she, turning in surprise to the 


"True," replied the Queen. "But its waters 
have been within your soul. Know that a pure 
and happy heart, and gentleness toward others, 
are the only Immortal Fountains of Beauty!" 

Marion thanked the Queen, and joyfully re- 
turned home. 

Rose ran to meet her, and clasped her to her 
bosom fervently. 

"I know all," she said; "I have been in Fairy- 
land. Disguised as a bird, I have watched all 
your steps. When you first went to the grotto, 
I begged the Queen to grant your wish." 

Ever after the sisters lived lovingly together. 
It was the remark of every one: "How handsome 
Marion has grown! The ugly scowl has de- 
parted from her face, her eyes are so clear and 
gentle, her mouth is so pretty and smiling. To 
my taste she is as handsome as Rose." 

Lydia Maria Child (Adapted) 


Once upon a time there lived in the west coun- 
try a little girl who had neither father nor mother; 
they both died when she was very young, and 
left their daughter to the care of her uncle, who 
was the richest farmer in all that country. He 
had houses and lands, flocks and herds, many 
servants to work about his house and fields, a 
wife who had brought him a great dowry, and 
two fair daughters. 

All their neighbours, being poor, looked up to 
the family — insomuch that they imagined them- 
selves great people. The father and mother were 
as proud as peacocks; the daughters thought 
themselves the greatest beauties in the world, 
and not one of the family would speak civilly to 
anybody they thought low. 

Now it happened that though she was their 
near relation, they had this opinion of the orphan 
girl, partly because she had no fortune, and partly 
because of her humble, kindly disposition. It 
was said that the more needy and despised any 
creature was, the more ready was she to befriend 
it : on which account the people of the west coun- 
try called her Childe Charity, and if she had any 
other name, I never heard it. 


Childe Charity was thought very mean in that 
proud house. Her uncle would not own her for 
his niece; her cousins would not keep her com- 
pany; and her aunt sent her to work in the dairy, 
and to sleep in the back garret, where they kept 
all sorts of lumber and dry herbs for the winter. 
The servants learned the same tune, and Childe 
Charity had more work than rest among them. 
All the day she scoured pails, scrubbed dishes, 
and washed crockeryware. But every night she 
slept in the back garret as sound as a Princess 
could in her palace chamber. 

Her uncle's house was large and white, and 
stood among green meadows by a river's side. 
In front it had a porch covered with a vine; be- 
hind, it had a farmyard and high granaries. 
Within, there were two parlours for the rich, and 
two kitchens for the poor, which the neighbours 
thought wonderfully grand. And one day in the 
harvest season, when this rich farmer's corn had 
been all cut down and housed, he condescended 
so far as to invite his neighborhood to a harvest 
supper. The west country people came in their 
holiday clothes and best behaviour. Such heaps 
of cakes and cheese, such baskets of apples and 
barrels of ale, had never been at feast before. 

They were making merry in kitchen and par- 
lour, when a poor old woman came to the back 
door, begging for broken victuals and a night's 


lodging. Her clothes were coarse and ragged; her 
hair was scanty and grey; her back was bent; 
her teeth were gone. She had a squinting eye, 
a clubbed foot, and crooked fingers. In short, 
she was the poorest and ugliest old woman that 
ever came begging. 

The first who saw her was the kitchen-maid, 
and she ordered her to be gone for an ugly witch. 
The next was the herd-boy, and he threw her 
a bone over his shoulder. But Childe Charity, 
hearing the noise, came out from her seat at the 
foot of the lowest table, and asked the old woman 
to take her share of the supper, and sleep that 
night in her bed in the back garret. 

The old woman sat down without a word of 
thanks. All the company laughed at Childe 
Charity for giving her bed and her supper to a 
beggar. Her proud cousins said it was just like 
her mean spirit, but Childe Charity did not mind 
them. She scraped the pots for her supper that 
night and slept on a sack among the lumber, 
while the old woman rested in her warm bed. 

And next morning, before the little girl awoke, 
the old woman was up and gone, without so 
much as saying "Thank you," or "Good morn- 

That day all the servants were sick after the 
feast, and mostly cross too — so you may judge 
how civil they were; when, at supper time, who 



TILDFN -'Off NO* ' ION^ 


should come to the back door but the old woman, 
again asking for broken victuals and a night's 

No one would listen to her or give her a mor- 
sel, till Childe Charity rose from her seat at the 
foot of the lowest table, and kindly asked her to 
take her supper, and sleep in her bed in the back 
garret. Again the old woman sat down without 
a word. Childe Charity scraped the pots for her 
supper, and slept on the sack. 

In the morning the old woman was gone; but 
for six nights after, as sure as the supper was 
spread, there was she at the back door, and the 
little girl regularly asked her in. 

Childe Charity's aunt said she would let her 
get enough of beggars. Her cousins made con- 
tinual game of what they called her genteel visi- 
tor. Sometimes the old woman said: "Child, 
why don't you make this bed softer? and why 
are your blankets so thin?" but she never gave 
her a word of thanks, nor a civil- good morning. 

At last, on the ninth night from her first com- 
ing, when Childe Charity was getting used to 
scrape the pots and sleep on the sack, her accus- 
tomed knock came at the door, and there she 
stood with an ugly ashy-coloured dog, so stupid- 
looking and clumsy that no herd-boy would keep 

"Good evening, my little girl," she said when 


Childe Charity opened the door. "I will not 
have your supper and bed to-night — I am go- 
ing on a long journey to see a friend. But here 
is a dog of mine, whom nobody in all the west 
country will keep for me. He is a little cross, 
and not very handsome; but I leave him to your 
care till the shortest day in all the year. Then 
you and I will count for his keeping." 

When the old woman had said the last word, 
she set off with such speed that Childe Charity 
lost sight of her in a minute. The ugly dog be- 
gan to fawn upon her, but he snarled at every- 
body else. The servants said he was a disgrace 
to the house. The proud cousins wanted him 
drowned, and it was with great trouble that 
Childe Charity got leave to keep him in an old 
ruined cow-house. 

Ugly and cross as the dog was, he fawned on 
her, and the old woman had left him to her care. 
So the little girl gave him part of all her meals, 
and when the hard frost came, took him pri- 
vately to her own back garret, because the eow- 
house was damp and cold in the long nights. 
The dog lay quietly on some straw in a eorner. 
Childe Charity slept soundly, but every morn- 
ing the servants would say to her: — 

"What great light and fine talking was that 
in your back garret?" 

"There was no light, but the moon shining in 


through the shutterless window, and no talk 
that I heard," said Childe Charity. 

And she thought they must have been dream- 
ing. But night after night, when any of them 
awoke in the dark and silent hour that comes 
before the morning, they saw a light brighter 
and clearer than the Christmas fire, and heard 
voices like those of lords and ladies in the back 

Partly from fear, and partly from laziness, 
none of the servants would rise to see what might 
be there. At length, when the winter nights 
were at the longest, the little parlour-maid, who 
did least work and got most favour, because she 
gathered news for her mistress, crept out of bed 
when all the rest were- sleeping, and set herself 
to watch at a crevice of the door. 

She saw the dog lying quietly in the corner, 
Childe Charity sleeping soundly in her bed, and 
the moon shining through the shutterless win- 
dow. But an hour before daybreak there came 
a glare of lights, and a sound of far-off bugles. 
The window opened, and in marched a troop of 
little men clothed in crimson and gold, and bear- 
ing every man a torch, till the room looked bright 
as day. They marched up with great reverence 
to the dog, where he lay on the straw, and the 
most richly clothed among them said : — 

"Royal Prince, we have prepared the banquet 


hall. What will Your Highness please that we 
do next?" 

"Ye have done well," said the dog. "Now, 
prepare the feast, and see that all things be in 
our first fashion: for the Princess and I mean to 
bring a stranger who never feasted in our halls 

"Your Highness's commands shall be obeyed," 
said the little man, making another reverence; and 
he and his company passed out of the window. 

By and by there was another glare of lights, 
and a sound like far-off flutes. The window 
opened, and there came in a company of little 
ladies clad in rose-coloured velvet, and carrying 
each a crystal lamp. They also walked with 
great reverence up to the dog, and the gayest 
among them said: — 

"Royal Prince, we have prepared the tapes- 
try. What wilf Your Highness please that we do 

"Ye have done well," said the dog. "Now, 
prepare the robes, and let all things be in our 
first f ashion : T f or the Princess and I will bring 
with us a stranger who never feasted in our halls 

"Your Highness's commands shall be obeyed," 
said the little lady, making a low curtsy; and 
she and her company passed out through the 
window, which closed quietly behind them. 


The dog stretched himself out upon the straw, 
the little girl turned in her sleep, and the moon 
shone in on the back garret. 

The parlour-maid was so much amazed, and 
so eager to tell this great story to her mistress, 
that she could not close her eyes that night, and 
was up before cock-crow. But when she told it, 
her mistress called her a silly wench to have such 
foolish dreams, and scolded her so that the par- 
lour-maid durst not mention what she had seen 
to the servants. 

Nevertheless Childe Charity's aunt thought 
there might be something in it worth knowing; 
so next night, when all the house were asleep, 
she crept out of bed, and set herself to watch at 
the back garret door. 

There she saw exactly what the maid told her 
— the little men with the torches, and the little 
ladies with the crystal lamps, come in making 
great reverence to the dog, and the same words 
pass, only he said to the one, "Now prepare 
the presents," and to the other, "Prepare the 
jewels." •-.'*'■' 

And when they were gone the dog stretched 
himself on the straw, Childe Charity turned in 
her sleep, and the moon shone in on the back 

The mistress could not close her eyes any 
more than the maid from eagerness to tell the 


story. She woke up Childe Charity's rich uncle 
before cock-crow. But when he heard it, he 
laughed at her for a foolish woman, and advised 
her not to repeat the like before the neighbours, 
lest they should think she had lost her senses. 

The mistress could say no more, and the day 
passed. But that night the master thought he 
would like to see what went on in the back gar- 
ret: so when all the house were asleep, he slipped 
out of bed, and set himself to watch at the crev- 
ice in the door. 

The same thing happened again that the maid 
and the mistress saw: the little men in crimson 
with their torches, and the little ladies in rose- 
coloured velvet with their lamps, came in at the 
window, and made an humble reverence to the 
ugly dog, the one saying, "Royal Prince, we have 
prepared the presents," and the other, "Royal 
Prince, we have prepared the jewels." 

And the dog said to them all: "Ye have done 
well. To-morrow come and meet me and the 
Princess with horses and chariots, and let all 
things be in our first fashion : for we will bring a 
stranger from this house who has never travelled 
with us, nor feasted in our halls before." 

The little men and the little ladies said: "Your 
Highness's commands shall be obeyed." 

When they had gone out through the window 
the ugly dog stretched himself out on the straw, 


Childe Charity turned in her sleep, and the moon 
shone in on the back garret. 

The master could not close his eyes any 
more than the maid or the mistress, for thinking 
of this strange sight. He remembered to have 
heard his grandfather say, that somewhere near 
his meadows there lay a path leading to the 
Fairies' country, and the haymakers used to see 
it shining through the grey Summer morning as 
the Fairy bands went home. Nobody had heard 
or seen the like for many years; but the master 
concluded that the doings in his back garret 
must be a Fairy business, and the ugly dog a 
person of great account. His chief wonder was, 
however, what visitor the Fairies intended to take 
from his house; and after thinking the matter 
over he was sure it must be one of his daughters 
— they were so handsome, and had such fine 

Accordingly, Childe Charity's rich uncle made 
it his first business that morning to get ready a 
breakfast of roast mutton for the ugly dog, and 
carry it to him in the old cow-house. But not a 
morsel would the dog taste. On the contrary, he 
snarled at the master, and would have bitten 
him if he had not run away with his mutton. 

"The Fairies have strange ways," said the 
master to himself. But he called his daughters 
privately, bidding them dress themselves in their 


best, for he could not say which of them might 
be called into great company before nightfall. 

Childe Charity's proud cousins, hearing this, 
put on the richest of their silks and laces, and 
strutted like peacocks from kitchen to parlour 
all day, waiting for the call their father spoke of, 
while the little girl scoured and scrubbed in the 

They were in very bad humour when night 
fell, and nobody had come. But just as the fam- 
ily were sitting down to supper the ugly dog 
began to bark, and the old woman's knock was 
heard at the back door. Childe Charity opened 
it, and was going to offer her bed and supper as 
usual, when the old woman said: — 

"This is the shortest day in all the year, and 
I am going home to hold a feast after my travels. 
I see you have taken good care of my dog, and 
now if you will come with me to my house, he 
and I will do our best to entertain you. Here is 
our company." 

As the old woman spoke there was a sound 
of far-off flutes and bugles, then a glare of lights; 
and a great company, clad so grandly that they 
shone with gold and jewels, came in open chariots, 
covered with gilding, and drawn by snow-white 

The first and finest of the chariots was empty. 
The old woman led Childe Charity to it by the 


hand, and the ugly dog jumped in before her. 
The proud cousins, in all their finery, had by this 
time come to the door, but nobody wanted them. 
And no sooner was the old woman and her dog 
within the chariot than a marvellous change 
passed over them, for the ugly old woman turned 
at once to a beautiful young Princess, with long 
yellow curls and a robe of green and gold, while 
the ugly dog at her side started up a fair young 
Prince, with nut-brown hair, and a robe of pur- 
ple and silver. 

"We are," said they, as the chariots drove 
on, and the little girl sat astonished, "a Prince 
and Princess of Fairyland, and there was a wager 
between us whether or not there were good peo- 
ple still to be found in these false and greedy 
times. One said 'Yes,' and the other said 'No'; 
and I have lost," said the Prince, "and must 
pay the feast and presents." 

Some of the farmer's household, who were 
looking after them through the moonlight night, 
said the chariots had gone one way across the 
meadows, some said they had gone another, and 
till this day they cannot agree upon the direc- 

But Childe Charity went with that noble com- 
pany into a country such as she had never seen 
— for Primroses covered all the ground, and the 
light was always like that of a Summer evening. 


They took her to a royal palace, where there was 
nothing but feasting and dancing for seven days. 
She had robes of pale green velvet to wear, and 
slept in a chamber inlaid with ivory. 

When the feast was done, the Prince and Prin- 
cess gave her such heaps of gold and jewels that 
she could not carry them, but they gave her a 
chariot to go home in, drawn by six white horses. 
And on the seventh night, which happened to be 
Christmas time, when the farmer's family had 
settled in their own minds that she would never 
come back, and were sitting down to supper, 
they heard the sound of her coachman's bugle, 
and saw her alight with all the jewels and gold 
at the very back door where she had brought in 
the ugly old woman. 

The Fairy chariot drove away, and never came 
back to that farmhouse after. But Childe Charity 
scrubbed and scoured no more, for she grew a 
great lady, even in the eyes of her proud cousins. 

Frances Browne 



Once upon a time a noble but poor Count lived 
in the lovely land of Alsace. He dwelt in a 
charming little house on a hill. All around the 
house the graceful trees stretched out their leafy 
branches like arms, as if they were saying: "Wel- 
come! Welcome among us!" Not far from the 
house was a thick green wood filled with birds 
and flowers and scented grasses. The good Count 
did not live alone in this delightful spot; no in- 
deed, his wife and his two children, Fanchon 
and Frederic, lived with him, happy and con- 

Now, one Summer the news arrived that a 
wealthy and distinguished nobleman, cousin of 
the Count, was coming the next day, with his 
family, to call upon his poor relatives. 

The following morning the Countess got up 
very early, and baked a cake into which she put 
more almonds and raisins than she ever put into 
her Easter cakes, so that its delicious fragrance 
filled the house. The Count dusted and brushed 
his old green waistcoat; while Fanchon and 


Frederic, dressed in their best clothes, sat waiting 
for the guests to come. 

"You must not run about in the wood, as you 
usually do," said the Count to them, "but sit 
very still so that you will look clean and neat 
when your cousins arrive." 

So the poor children were forced to stay in the 
house. The morning sun was peeping bright and 
smiling from behind a cloud, and was darting 
his rays in at the window. Out in the wood 
the breeze was blowing sweet and fresh, and 
the robins, the thrushes, the goldfinches, and the 
nightingales, were all warbling their loveliest 
songs. Poor Fanchon sat still and listened, some- 
times smoothing the bow on her pink sash, and 
sometimes knitting a bit, and all the while long- 
ing to run away to the wood. As for Frederic, 
he was looking at a picture book, but he kept 
jumping up every minute to gaze out at the win- 
dow; for the big house dog Pepin was barking 
and bounding before the window, as if to say: 
"Aren't you coming out? What in the world 
are you doing in that stuffy room?" 

And so Fanchon and Frederic had to remain 
in the house; and this was all the more painful, 
because the company-cake, which was on the 
table, gave out the most delicious spicy odours, 
yet might not be cut until the cousins came. 
"Oh! that they would only come! — would only 


come!" the children cried, and almost wept with 

At last the loud tramping of horses was heard, 
and the rumble of wheels, then a carriage ap- 
proached, so brilliant and so covered with golden 
ornaments that the children were amazed, for 
they had never seen anything like it. The car- 
riage stopped before the house, and a very tall, 
thin gentleman glided out with the help of a 
footman, and fell into the arms of the Count, to 
whose cheek he gently pressed his lips. Then 
the footman aided a stout, red-faced woman to 
alight, while two children, a boy and a girl, 
stepped languidly down after her. 

When they were all safely in the house, Fan- 
chon and Frederic came forward and curtsied 
politely, as their father had told them to do. 
Then each seized a hand of the tall gentle- 
man, saying: "We are glad you are come, noble 
Cousin!" After which they permitted the red- 
faced lady to embrace them; then they went 
up to the children, but stood before them silent 
and amazed. Indeed, these rich children were 
wonderfully dressed! The boy wore a little 
jacket of scarlet cloth, embroidered with gold 
and ornamented with gold tassels. A bright 
little sword hung at his side. On his head was a 
curious red cap with a white feather, from under 
which peeped his yellow face and bleared eyes. 


The little girl had on a white dress all ribbons, 
lace, and bows, and her hair was frizzled and 
curled into a knot, on top of which was a shining 
coronet. Fanchon plucked up courage, and was 
going to take the little girl's hand, but she 
snatched it away in such a hurry and looked so 
tearful and angry, that Fanchon w T as frightened 
and let her alone. 

Frederic wished to have a closer look at the 
boy's sword, and put out his hand to touch it, 
w T hen the youngster began to shout and cry: 
"My sword! My sword! He is going to take 
my sword!" and ran to his father and hid be- 
hind him. 

After that Fanchon and Frederic stood back 
quietly, while their mother cut the cake, and the 
older people talked. The two rich children sat 
munching dry crackers, for their parents said 
that cake was not good for them. But Fanchon 
and Frederic each had a large slice, which their 
dear mother gave them. 

After they had finished eating, the guests 
arose to say good-bye, and the glittering carriage 
was driven to the door. The footman took from 
it two large bandboxes. These, the rich children 
handed with condescending pride, to Fanchon 
and Frederic. And just as the guests were about 
to take their leave, the dog Pepin, Frederic's 
faithful friend and darling, came dancing and 


barking around them. The rich children screamed, 
and had to be lifted, kicking with fright, into the 
carriage, which immediately drove away. 
& So ended the visit of these wealthy, distin- 
guished, and noble cousins. 


After the carriage containing the wealthy 
cousins had rolled down the hill, the Count threw 
off his green waistcoat, and put on his loose 
jacket, and ran his fingers through his hair. The 
children, too, quickly got out of their best clothes, 
and felt light and happy. 

"To the wood! To the wood!" shouted Fred- 
eric, jumping as high as he could for joy. 

"But don't you wish to see what is in these 
handsome bandboxes your cousins gave you?" 
asked his mother. 

And Fanchon, who had been gazing at the band- 
boxes with longing eyes, cried out: "Can't we 
open them first, and go to the wood afterward?" 

But Frederic was hard to convince. "Surely 
that stupid boy could not have brought any- 
thing worth while," said he scornfully, "nor his 
ribbony sister! He talked so boldly about bears 
and lions, but when my dear Pepin barked, he 
forgot his sword and hid under the table! A 
brave sportsman he!" 


"Oh, dear, good brother!" cried Fanchon, "just 
let us take one peep at what is in the boxes! " 

So Frederic, who always did what he could to 
please his sister, gave up the idea of being off to 
the wood at once, and sat down patiently beside 
the table where the bandboxes were. 

The mother opened them — and then — oh, 
my dear readers, if you could have seen what 
lay within! The loveliest toys were in those 
boxes! and candies, and sweet cakes, and nuts! 
The children clapped their hands again and 
again, crying: "Oh, how nice! Oh, how deli- 

They took them all out of the boxes, and piled 
them on the table. None of the toys caused 
Frederic such satisfaction as did a little hunter 
who, when a string that stuck out from his 
jacket was pulled, put a gun to his shoulder, 
and fired at a target. Next to him in Frederic's 
affections, w T as a little fellow who bowed, and 
twanged on a harp, whenever Frederic turned 
a tiny handle. And, what pleased him nearly as 
much, was a shotgun of wood and a hunting 
pouch and belt. 

Fanchon was equally delighted with a beau- 
tiful doll, a trunk filled with doll's dresses, tiny 
shoes, hats, and other lovely clothes, and a set 
of charming doll's furniture. 

The two children forgot all about the wood, 


and enjoyed themselves with their playthings 
until quite late in the evening. They then went 
to bed and slept soundly. 


The next morning, the children got their boxes 
and took out the playthings, and began to play. 
Then, just as on the day before, the sun shone 
brightly in at the window, the trees rustled in 
the breeze, and the birds sang their loveliest 
songs. At last Frederic cried out: — 

"Why do we sit here in this stuffy room? I'll 
tell you what we'll do! Come, Fanchon, let us 
be off to the wood!" 

Fanchon had just undressed her doll, and was 
going to put it to bed. "Why can't we stay here? " 
she begged, "and play a little longer, Frederic?" 

"I'll tell you what we'll do," he replied. 
"We'll take our toys out to the wood. I'll put 
on my pouch and belt, and carry my gun. I'll be 
a real sportsman ! The hunter and the harper may 
come, too. And you may take your doll. Come 
along! Let's be off!" 

Fanchon hastened to dress her doll, then they 
both ran out of the house, and off to the wood. 
There they sat down on a nice grassy spot. And 
after they had played a while, Fanchon said: — 


"Do you know, Frederic, that harper of yours 
does not play very well. Just listen how funny 
his harp sounds out here in the wood — with 
that eternal ting! ting! ping! ping!" 

Frederic turned the handle more violently. 
"You're right, Fanchon," said he. "What the 
little fellow plays sounds quite horrible. He 
must make a better job of it!" 

And with that he unscrewed the handle with 
such force, that- — crack! crack! — the box on 
which the harper stood flew into a thousand 
splinters, and the arms of the little fellow were 
broken and hung useless at his sides. 

"Oh! Oh!" cried Frederic. 

"Ah, the poor little harper!" sighed Fanchon. 

"Well, he was a stupid creature!" said Fred- 
eric. "He played very poor music, and bowed, 
and made faces like our yellow-faced cousin who 
gave him to us." And as Frederic spoke, he 
threw the harper into a thicket. 

"What I like, is my hunter," he continued. 
"He hits the bull's eye every time he fires." And 
with that Frederic jerked the string so violently 
that — twang! twang! — the target was broken 
and the little man's arms hung limp and motion- 

"Ah! Ah!" cried Frederic. "You could shoot 
at your target in-doors, but out here, you can't 
shoot at all!" And so saying, Frederic, with all 


his might, shied the hunter after the harper into 
the thicket. 

"Come, let us run about a bit," said he to 

"Ah, yes! let us," said she. "This lovely doll 
of mine shall run with us. It will be great fun!" 

So Fanchon and Frederic took each an arm 
of the doll, and off they ran through the bushes, 
on and on, until they came to a small lake. There 
they stopped, and Frederic said: — 

"Suppose we wait a minute. I have a gun 
now, and perhaps I may hit a duck among the 

At that moment, Fanchon screamed out: "Oh! 
just look at my doll! What's the matter with 

Indeed, the poor thing was in a miserable con- 
dition. Neither Fanchon nor Frederic had been 
paying any attention to her, and the bushes had 
torn all the clothes off her back; both her legs 
were broken; while her pretty waxen face was 
covered with so many scratches that it was 
hideous to look at. 

"Oh! my beautiful, beautiful child!" sobbed 

"There, you see what a stupid creature that 
doll of yours is ! " cried Frederic. " She can't even 
take a little run, but she must tear and spoil her 
clothes! Give her to me!" 


And before Fanchon could say a word, or cry: 
"Oh! Oh!" Frederic snatched the doll, and flung 
her into the lake. 

"Never mind, Fanchon!" said he consolingly. 
"Never mind, if I can shoot a duck, you shall 
have the most beautiful wing-feathers." 

Just then a noise was heard among the rushes, 
and Frederic instantly took aim with his wooden 
gun. But he dropped it quickly from his shoulder, 
saying: — 

"Am I not an idiot! How can a fellow shoot a 
duck without powder and shot? What's the use 
of this stupid wooden thing, anyway?" With 
that he flung the gun and his pouch and belt 
into the lake. 

But poor Fanchon was w T eeping at the loss of 
her doll, and Frederic was annoyed at the way 
things had turned out, so they both crept back 
sadly to the house. And when their mother 
asked them what had become of the playthings, 
Frederic truthfully related how they had been 
deceived by the harper, the hunter, the doll, and 

"Ah! you foolish children!" cried their mother 
half in anger, "you do not deserve to have nice 

But the Count, who had been listening to 
Frederic's tale, said: "Let the children alone. I 
am really glad that they are fairly rid of those 


playthings. There was something queer about 

But neither the children nor their mother 
understood what the Count meant. 


Soon after these events very early one morn- 
ing Fanchon and Frederic ran off to the wood. 
They were feeling sad, for their mother had told 
them that they must return home soon to study, 
so as to be ready for the tutor that their rich 
cousin had promised to send them. For the tutor 
was expected shortly. 

"Let us run and jump as much as we can now," 
said Frederic, when they reached the wood, "for 
in a little while we shall not be allowed to stay 
out here at all!" 

So they began to play hide-and-seek, but every- 
thing went wrong. The wind carried Frederic's 
hat into the bushes. He stumbled and fell on his 
nose as he was running. Fanchon found herself 
hanging by her clothes on a thorn-tree, and she 
banged her foot against a sharp stone so that she 
shrieked with pain. In fact the children could 
not understand what was the matter with them 
on this particular day; and they gave up their 
game, and slunk dejectedly through the wood. 
Frederic threw himself down under a shady tree, 


and Fanchon followed his example. And there 
the two children lay gloomy and wretched, gaz- 
ing on the ground. 

"All!" said Fanchon, "if we only had our play- 

"Nonsense!" said Frederic, "what should we 
do with them? I'll tell you what it is, Fanchon, 
Mother is right, I suspect. The toys were good 
enough, but we did n't know how to play with 
them. If we were as learned as our rich cousins, 
we should be so wise that all our toys would 
now be whole; and we should know how to play 
with them rightly." 

And at that Fanchon began to sob and cry 
bitterly, and Frederic joined her; and they both 
howled and lamented until the wood rang again 
and again: "Oh! poor, unfortunate children that 
we are! Oh! that we were as wise as our cousins!" 

But suddenly they both stopped crying, and 
asked each other in amazement: — 

"Do you hear anything, Fanchon?" 

"Do you hear anything, Frederic?" 

For out of the deepest shade of the dark thicket 
in front of the children, a wonderful brightness 
began to shine, playing like moonlight over the 
leaves that trembled as if in joy. Then through 
the whispering trees came a sweet musical note, 
like the sound of a harp. The children lay mo- 
tionless with awe. All their sorrow passed away 


from them, and tender, happy tears rose into 
their eyes. 

As the radiance streamed brighter and brighter 
through the bushes, and the marvellous music 
grew louder and louder, the children's hearts 
beat high. They gazed eagerly at the brightness. 
Then they saw, smiling at them from the thicket, 
the most beautiful face of a child, with the sun 
beaming on it in splendour. 

"Oh! come to us! — Come to us! — darling 
Shining Child!" cried Fanchon and Frederic, 
stretching out their arms; and their hearts were 
filled with an indescribable longing. 

"I am coming! I am coming!" a sweet voice 
cried from the bushes. 

And then, as if borne on the wings of the breeze, 
the Stranger Child seemed to float hovering 
toward Fanchon and Frederic. 


"What is the matter, dear children?" asked 
the Stranger Child. "I heard you crying and 
lamenting, and I was very sorry for you! What 
do you want?" 

"Ah!" said Frederic, "we did not know what 
we wanted; but now I see that we wanted you — 
just you yourself!" 


"That's it!" chimed in Fanchon. "Now that 
you are with us, we are happy again! Why were 
you so long in coming?" 

In fact both children felt as if they had known 
and played with the Stranger Child all their 
lives, and that their unhappiness had been be- 
cause their beloved playmate was not with them. 

"You see," Frederic added, "we have no toys 
left, for I, like a stupid dolt, broke all our fine 
things, and shied them into the thicket." 

At this the Stranger Child laughed merrily, 
and cried: "Why, Fanchon and Frederic, you 
are lying this minute among the loveliest play- 
things that ever were seen!" 

"Where? — Where are they?" Fanchon and 
Frederic both cried. 

"Look around you," said the Stranger Child. 

Then Fanchon and Frederic saw how out of 
the thick grass and moss all sorts of glorious 
flowers were peeping, with bright eyes gleaming. 
And between them many coloured stones and 
crystal shells sparkled and shone. While little 
golden insects danced up and down humming 
gentle songs. 

"Now we will build a palace!" said the Stran- 
ger Child. "Help me to get the stones together." 
And it stooped down and began to pick up 
stones of many pretty colours. 

Fanchon and Frederic helped, and the Stran- 


ger Child placed the beautiful stones one upon 
another, and soon there rose tall pillars shining 
in the sun, while an airy golden roof stretched 
itself from pillar to pillar. Then the Stranger 
Child kissed the flowers that were peeping from 
the grass, and whispered to them lovingly, and 
they shot up higher and higher, and, twining 
together, formed sweet-scented arbours and cov- 
ered walks in which the children danced about, 
full of delight and gladness. 

The Stranger Child clapped its hands, and 
immediately the golden roof, that was made of 
insects' golden wings, fell to pieces with a hum, 
and the pillars melted away into a splashing 
silver stream, on whose banks flowers grew and 
peeped into the water. 

Then the Stranger Child plucked little blades 
of grass and gathered twigs from trees, strewing 
them on the ground before Fanchon and Fred- 
eric. The blades of grass turned into the prettiest 
little live dolls ever seen, and the twigs became 
gay little huntsmen. 

The dolls danced around Fanchon, and let her 
take them in her lap, and they whispered in such 
delicate little voices: "Be kind to us! Love us, 
dear Fanchon." 

The huntsmen shouted: "Halloa! Halloa! 
the hunt's up!" and blew their horns, and bus- 
tled about. Then tiny hares came darting out 


of the bushes, with tiny dogs after them, and the 
huntsmen pursued them with shouts. This was 

Then suddenly these wonders disappeared. 
And Fanchon and Frederic cried out: "What has 
become of the dolls? Where are the huntsmen?" 

The Stranger Child answered: "Oh, they are 
always here waiting for you! They are close be- 
side you, so you may have them at any minute. 
But just now would you not rather go with me 
through the wood?" 

"Oh, yes! yes!" cried Fanchon and Frederic. 

The Stranger Child took hold of their hands, 
crying: "Come! Come!" 

And with that off they went! The children 
felt themselves floating along lightly and easily, 
through the trees; while all the birds flew flut- 
tering beside them, singing and warbling their 
sweetest songs. Then suddenly up they soared 
into the air. Higher and higher they mounted 
like birds, skimming above the tops of the trees. 
Frederic shouted with delight, but Fanchon was 

"Oh, my breath is going! I shall tumble!" 
she cried. 

And just at that moment the Stranger Child 
let them down gently to the ground, and said: 
"Now I shall sound my Forest-Song. Then 
good-bye for to-day." 


And the Stranger Child took out a little horn 
of wreathed gold, and began to sound it so 
beautifully that the whole wood reechoed won- 
drously with its lovely music; while a host of 
nightingales came flocking to the branches above 
the children's heads, and sang their most melo- 
dious songs. 

But all at once the music grew fainter and 
fainter, and only a soft whispering seemed to 
come from the thicket into which the Stranger 
Child had vanished. 

"To-morrow! To-morrow! I will come again!" 
the children heard breathed gently as if from a 
distance. Then they sighed with joy, for, though 
they could not understand it, never had they 
known such happiness in all their lives. 

"Oh! I wish it was to-morrow, now!" they 
both cried, as they hastened home to their par- 


"I should fancy that the children had dreamed 
all this," said the Count to his wife, when Fan- 
chon and Frederic, who could think of nothing 
else but the Stranger Child, and the wonderful 
events, and the exquisite music, had told all that 
had happened. "I should fancy that they had 


dreamed all this, if they had not both seen the 
same things! I cannot get to the bottom of it 

"Don't bother your head about it, my dear," 
answered his wife. "I think this Stranger Child 
was nobody but the schoolmaster's son from the 
village. We must take care that he is not al- 
lowed to put any more such nonsense into the 
children's heads." 

But the Count could not agree with her, for 
he called the children to him again, to tell how 
the Stranger Child was dressed and looked. 
Fanchon and Frederic both agreed that its face 
was fair as lilies, that it had cheeks like roses, 
cherry lips, bright blue eyes, and locks of gold; 
and that it was more beautiful than words could 

But what they said about its dress sounded 
absurd. For Fanchon said that its dress was 
wondrous beautiful, shining and gleaming, as if 
made of the petals of flowers; while Frederic 
insisted that its garments were of sparkling 
golden-green, like spring-leaves in the sunshine. 

And Frederic thought that the Stranger Child 
was a boy; while Fanchon was sure that it was 
a girl. And these contradictions confused their 
parents; and the Count shook his head wonder- 

The next day, Fanchon and Frederic hastened 


to the wood, and found the Stranger Child wait- 
ing for them. If their play had been glorious the 
day before, it was ten times more glorious to- 
day; for the Stranger Child did such marvellous 
things that Fanchon and Frederic shouted for 

While they played, the Stranger Child talked 
sweetly to the trees, flowers, and birds, and to 
the brook that ran through the wood; and they 
all answered so clearly that Fanchon and Fred- 
eric understood everything they said. 

"Dear children!" cried the Alder-thicket, 
"why were you not here early, when my friend 
the Morning Breeze came rustling over the blue 
hills, and brought us thousands of greetings and 
kisses from the Golden Queen of the Dawn, and 
plenty of wing-waftings full of sweet perfumes!" 

"Oh silence!" the flowers broke in. "Do not 
mention that robber, the Morning Breeze ! Does 
he not steal our perfumes! Never mind the 
Alders, children, let them lisp and whisper. Lis- 
ten to us! We love you so! We dress ourselves in 
the loveliest colours just for you!" 

"And do we not love you, you beautiful flow- 
ers!" said the Stranger Child tenderly. 

But Fanchon knelt down on the grass, and 
stretched out her arms, as if she would take all 
the bright flowers to her heart, and cried: "Ah! 
I love you! I love you every one!" 


Then came a sighing out of the tall dark firtrees, 
and they said: "We shade the flowers from the 
hot sun, and shelter human children when the 
storm comes rushing through the woods, but 
who loves us in return?" 

"Groan and sigh," cried Frederic, "and mur- 
mur as much as you like, you green giants that 
you are! It is then that the real woodsman's 
heart rejoices in you! I love all, the green bushes, 
the flowers, and you trees!" 

"You are quite right!" splashed the brook as 
it sparkled over its stones. "Come sit down 
among this moss, dear children, and listen to me. 
I come from afar; out of a deep, cool, dark rock 
I gush. Look into my waves, and I will show 
you the loveliest pictures in my clear mirror, 
the blue of the sky, the fleecy clouds, bushes, 
trees, and blossoms; and your very selves, dear 
children, I draw tenderly into my transparent 

"Fanchon and Frederic," said the Stranger 
Child, looking around with wondrous blissful- 
ness. " Only listen how they all love us ! But the 
redness of evening is rising behind the hills, and 
the nightingale is calling me home!" 

"Oh, but first let us fly a little, as we did yes- 
terday!" begged Frederic. 

"Yes," said Fanchon, "but not quite so high. 
It makes my head giddy." 


Then the Stranger Child took them each by 
the hand again, and they went soaring up into 
the golden purple of the evening sky, while the 
birds crowded and sang around them. 

Among the shining clouds, Frederic saw, as if 
in wavering flame, beautiful castles all of rubies 
and other precious stones. 

"Look! Look! Fanchon!" he cried, full of rap- 
ture. "Look at those splendid palaces! Let us 
fly along as fast as we can, and we shall soon get 
to them." 

Fanchon, too, saw the castles, and forgot her 
fear, and kept looking upward. 

"Those are my beloved castles-in-the-air," 
the Stranger Child said. "But we must go no 
farther to-day!" 

Fanchon and Frederic seemed to be in a dream, 
and could not make out how they suddenly came 
to find themselves with their father and mother. 


It was the next day. In the most beautiful 
part of the wood beside the brook, between whis- 
pering bushes, the Stranger Child had set up a 
glorious tent made of tall slender lilies, glowing 
roses, and tulips of every hue. And beneath this 
tent, Fanchon and Frederic were seated with the 
Stranger Child, listening to the forest brook as 


it whirled, and rippled, and sang its wonderful 

"Tell us," said Fanchon, "darling Shining 
Child, where your home is, and all about your 
father and mother/' . 

The Stranger Child looked sorrowfully at the 
sky. "Ah, my dear/' it said with a sigh, "is it 
not enough that I come to you each day? Why 
must you then ask about my home? Though you 
were to travel day after day, forever and ever, 
even to beyond the utmost range of the purple 
hills, you could not reach it!" 

"Ah me!" sighed Fanchon. "Then you must 
live hundreds and hundreds of miles away from 
us! Is it only on a visit that you are here?" 

"Fanchon, beloved," said the Stranger Child, 
"whenever you long for me with all your heart, 
I am with you immediately, bringing you all 
those plays and wonders. Is that not as good as 
being in my home?" 

"Not at all," said Frederic, "for I believe 
that you live in a most glorious place. I do not 
care how hard the road is to your home, I mean 
to set out this minute for it." 

"And so you shall!" said the Stranger Child 
smiling; "for when you see all this so clearly be- 
fore you, and make up your mind to be there, it 
is as good as done! The land where I live, in 
truth, is so beautiful and glorious that I can give 


you no description of it. It is my mother who 
reigns over that land, — all glory and loveliness 
— as Queen." 

"Ah! you are a Prince!" cried Frederic. 

"Ah! you are a Princess!" cried Fanchon. 

"I certainly am," said the Stranger Child. 
"My mother's palace is far more beautiful than 
those glittering castles you saw in the evening 
clouds. For the gleaming pillars of her palace 
are of the purest crystal, and they soar slender 
and tall into the blue of heaven. Upon them rests 
a great, wide blue canopy. Beneath the canopy 
sail the shining white clouds, hither and thither 
on golden wings. And the red of the evening and 
the morning rises and falls, and the sparkling 
stars dance in a singing circle around her palace. 

"You have heard of the Fairies who can bring 
about great wonders. My mother is Queen of 
the Fairies. Very often she holds a feast for little 
children. It is then that the Elves, belonging to 
my mother's Kingdom, fly through the air weav- 
ing shining rainbows from one end of her palace 
to the other. Under these rainbows they build 
my mother's diamond throne, — that in appear- 
ance and perfume is like lilies, roses, and carna- 

"My mother takes her place upon the throne, 
and the Elves sing, and play on golden harps. 
As soon as their music begins, everything in the 


palace and in the woods and gardens, moves and 
sings. And all around there are thousands of 
beautiful little children in charming dresses, 
shouting with delight. 

"The children chase each other among the 
golden trees, and throw blossoms at each other. 
They climb the trees where the wind swings and 
rocks them. They gather gold-glittering fruit, 
and they play with tame deer and other gentle 
wild creatures, that come bounding up to them 
and lick their hands. Then the children run up 
and down the rainbows; or they ride on the backs 
of great Purple Birds that fly up among the gleam- 
ing clouds. 

"How delightful that must be!" cried Fan- 
chon and Frederic, with rapture. "Oh! take us 
with you to your home, beautiful Shining Child! 
We want to stay there always!" 

"That may not be," said the Stranger Child. 

And Fanchon and Frederic cast down their 
eyes sadly to the ground. 


"All," said the Stranger Child, "you might 
not be so happy at my mother's Court. Indeed, 
it would be a great misfortune for you to try 
to go to her Kingdom. There are many children 
who cannot bear the singing of the Purple Birds, 


and, if they hear their songs, they die. Then 
too, destruction might overtake you before you 
could reach my mother's Court. Even I am not 
safe on my way thither. 

"There was a time when I was safe anywhere. 
But now a bitter enemy of my mother, whom she 
banished from her Kingdom, goes raging about 
the world; and I cannot be safe from being 
watched, pursued, and molested. Powerless as this 
bitter enemy is when I am at home, nothing can 
protect me from him, when I am flying abroad." 

"What sort of a hateful creature is it," asked 
Fanchon, "that can do you so much harm?" 

"I have told you," said the Stranger Child, 
"that my mother is the Fairy Queen. Among 
her many Elves are some who hover in the sky, 
or dwell in the waters, and others who serve at 
the Fairy Court. Once, a long while ago, there 
came among those that served at Court, a stran- 
ger who called himself Papillon. He said that he 
was learned in all the sciences of the world, and 
could accomplish great things among us. My 
mother made him prime minister. 

"Papillon soon showed his natural spite and 
wickedness. He pretended to the Queen that he 
loved children and could make them very happy. 
But instead of doing so, he hung himself like a 
weight of lead on the tails of the Purple Birds, 
so that they could not fly aloft. And when the 


children climbed the rose-trees, he dragged them 
down by the legs. Then he knocked their noses 
on the ground, and made them bleed. When 
the children sang, he crammed all sorts of nasty 
stuff down their throats; for sweet and happy 
singing he could not abide. And worst of all, he 
had a way of smearing the sparkling precious 
stones of the palace, and the lilies and roses, and 
even the shining rainbows, with a horrible black 
juice, so that everything beautiful became sor- 
rowful or dead. 

"And when he had done all this, he gave a 
loud hissing laugh, and said that everything 
was now as he wished it to be. Then, shouting 
that he was greater than my mother, he went 
flying up into the air, in the shape of an enormous 
fly with flashing eyes, and a long snout. After 
which he went humming and buzzing around my 
mother's throne, in a most abominable fashion. 

"When the Queen my mother and her Elves 
saw this, they knew that he had come among 
them under a false name, and that he was none 
other than Mouche, the gloomy King of the 
Gnomes. The entire Fairy Court thereupon 
rushed against him beating him with their wings, 
while the Purple Birds seized him with their 
glittering beaks and gripped him so tightly that 
he screamed with agony and rage. After which 
the birds shook him violently, and threw him 


down to the earth. He fell straight onto the 
back of liis old Aunt, who was a great blue toad. 
And she carried him off to her hole. 

"But five hundred of the children in the Fairy 
Court armed themselves with fly-flappers, to 
defend themselves against Mouehe if he should 
ever venture to return. Now after he was gone, 
all the black juice disappeared, and everything 
became as shining and glorious as before. 

"So you see, dear Children," continued the 
Stranger Child, "what kind of a creature I have 
to fear. This horrible Mouehe follows me about, 
and, if I did not hide myself quickly, he would 
injure me. And I assure you that if I were to 
take you with me to my home, Mouehe would 
lie in wait for us, and kill us." 

Fanchon wept bitterly at the danger to which 
the Stranger Child was exposed. But Frederic 
said: "If that horrible Mouehe is nothing but a 
great fly, I '11 soon hit him with father's big fly- 
flapper! And if once I give him a good craek on 
his nose, Aunty Blue Toad will have a job carry- 
ing him to her hole again!" 


Fanchon and Frederic ran home as fast as 
they could, shouting as they went : — 


" Oh ! the Shining Child is a beautiful Princess ! " 

"Oh! the Shining Child is a beautiful Prince!" 

They wanted, in their delight, to tell this to 
their parents, but their father came to meet 
them with a most extraordinary man walking 
by his side. This stranger kept muttering to 
himself : — 

"What a nice pair of stupids these are! Ah! 

The Count took him by the hand, and said to 
the children: "This gentleman is the tutor whom 
your kind Cousin has sent to teach you. So now 
shake hands with him, and bid him welcome." 

But the children looked sidewise at him, and 
could move neither hand nor foot. This w T as be- 
cause they had never seen such an extraordinary 
being. He was no taller than Frederic. His body 
was round and bloated, and his little weazen 
legs could hardly support its weight. His head 
was queer and square, and his face too ugly for 
anything, for not only was his nose long and 
pointed, but his little bulging eyes glittered, and 
his wide mouth was opened in a ferocious way. 
He was clad in black from top to toe, and his 
name was Tutor Ink. 

Now, as the children stood staring like stone 
images, their mother cried out angrily: "You 
rude children, what are you thinking of? Come! 
come! give the tutor your hands." 


The children, taking heart, did as their mother 
bade them. But as soon as Tutor Ink took hold 
of their hands, they jumped back, screaming: 
"Oh! Oh! It hurts!" ' 

The tutor laughed aloud, and showed a needle, 
which he had hidden in his hand to prick the 
children with. Fanchon was weeping; but Fred- 
eric growled. "Just try that again, little Big- 
Body, if you dare!" 

"Why did you do that, Tutor Ink?" asked the 
Count, somewhat annoyed. 

"Well, it's just my way!" answered Tutor 
Ink; "I can't alter it!" and with that he stuck 
his hands to his sides, and went on laughing un- 
til his voice sounded like the noise of a broken 

Alas! after that there was no more running 
about in the wood! Instead the children, day 
after day, had to sit in the house, repeating after 
Tutor Ink strange gibberish, not one word of 
which they could understand. 

With what longing eyes they looked at the 
wood! Often they thought they heard, amidst 
the happy songs of the birds and the rustling 
of the trees, the voice of the Stranger Child, 
calling, and calling: "Fanchon! Frederic! Are 
you not coming to play with me? Oh, come! I 
have made you a palace all of flowers! We will 
play there, and I will give you all sorts of 


beautiful stones! And then we'll fly through 
the air, and build cloud-castles! Come! Oh, 

At this the children's thoughts were so drawn 
to the wood, that they neither heard nor saw 
their tutor any longer; although he thumped on 
the table with both his fists, and hummed, and 
growled, and snarled. 

At last one day the Count perceived how pale 
the children were getting, and bade Tutor Ink 
take them for a w T alk. The Tutor did not like 
the idea at all. And the children did not like it 
either, saying: — 

"What business has Tutor Ink in our darling 


"Well, Tutor Ink, is it not delightful here in 
our wood?" asked Frederic. 

Tutor Ink made a face, and muttered: "Stu- 
pid nonsense! All one docs is to tear his stock- 
ings! One can't hear a w T ord because of the 
abominable screeching of the birds!" 

"But surely you love the flowers?" Fanchon 
chimed in. 

At this Tutor Ink's face became a deep cherry- 
colour, and he beat his hands about him, crying: 


"Stupid nonsense! Ridiculous nonsense! There 
are no decent flowers in this wood!" 

"But don't you see those dear little Lilies-of- 
the-valley peeping up at you with such bright 
loving eyes?" asked Fanchon. 

"What! What!" the Tutor screamed. "Flow- 
ers! — eyes? — Ha! Ha! — Nice eyes! — Useless 
things!" And with that he stooped, and pluck- 
ing up a handful of the lilies, roots and all, threw 
them into the thicket. 

Fanchon could not help shedding bitter tears, 
and Frederic gnashed his teeth in anger. Just 
then a little Robin alighted on a branch near 
the Tutor's head, and began to sing sweetly. 
The Tutor, picking up a stone, threw it, and the 
bird fell dying to the ground. 

Frederic could restrain himself no longer. 
"You horrible Tutor Ink!" he cried, "what did 
the little bird do to you, that you should strike 
it dead?" And looking toward the thicket, he 
called sadly: "Oh! where are you, beautiful Shin- 
ing Child? Oh, come! Only come! Let us fly 
far, far away! I cannot stay beside this horrible 
creature any longer." 

And Fanchon, stretching out her hands, 
sobbed and wept bitterly. "Oh, you darling 
Shining Child," she cried. "Come to us! Come 
to us! Save us! Save us! Tutor Ink is killing 
us, as he is killing the flowers and birds!" 


"What do you mean by the Shining Child?" 
snarled Tutor Ink. 

But at that instant there was a loud whisper- 
ing, and a rustling, in the thicket, and a sound 
as of muffled drums tolling in the distance. Then 
the children saw, in a shining cloud that floated 
above them, the beautiful face of the Stranger 
Child, and tears like glittering pearls were roll- 
ing down its rosy cheeks. 

"All! darling playmates!" it cried. "I can- 
not come to you any more! Farewell! Farewell! 
The Gnome Mouche has you in his power! Oh! 
you poor children, good-bye! good-bye!" 

And then the Stranger Child soared up far 
into the clouds. And the most marvellous thing 
happened! Behind the children there began a 
most horrid, fearsome buzzing and humming, 
snarling and growling, and, lo! Tutor Ink had 
changed into an enormous frightful-looking fly. 
And he began to fly upward heavily, following 
the Stranger Child. 

Fanchon and Frederic, overpowered with 
terror, ran out of the wood, and did not dare to 
look up at the sky until they had got some dis- 
tance away. And, then, when they did so, all 
that they could see, was a shining speck in the 
clouds, glittering like a star, and coming nearer 
and downward. 

The star grew bigger and bigger, and the chil- 


dren could hear, as if it were, the call of a trum- 
pet; and presently they saw that the star was 
really a splendid bird with shining purple plum- 
age. It came dropping down to the wood, clap- 
ping its mighty wings, and singing loud and 

"Hurrah! Hurrah!" shouted Frederic. "That 
is a Purple Bird from the Fairy Court! He will 
bite Tutor Ink to death! The Shining Child is 
saved! — and so are we! Come, Fanchon, let us 
get home as fast as we can, and tell our father 
about it." 


The children burst into the house where their 
parents were sitting. 

"Hurrah! Hurrah!" Frederic shouted. "The 
Purple Bird has bitten Tutor Ink to death!" 

"Oh, Father dear, Mother dear!" cried Fan- 
chon. "Tutor Ink is not Tutor Ink at all! He is 
really the wicked Mouche, King of the Gnomes; 
a monstrous fly, but a fly with clothes and shoes 
and stockings on!" 

"Who on earth has been putting such nonsense 
into your heads?" asked the Countess. 

And the parents gazed at the children in utter 
amazement, while they went on to tell about the 
Stranger Child whose mother was a great Fairy 


Queen, and about the Gnome King, Mouche, and 
the Purple Bird. 

The Count grew very grave and thoughtful. 
"Frederic," said he, "you are really a sensible 
boy, and I must admit that Tutor Ink has al- 
ways seemed to me a strange mysterious crea- 
ture. Your mother and I are by no means sat- 
isfied with him, particularly your mother. He 
has such a terrible sweet-tooth, that there's no 
way of keeping him from the sugar and jams. 
And, then, he hums and buzzes in such a dis- 
tressing manner. But in spite of all this, my dear 
boy, just think calmly for a minute. Even if 
there are such things as Gnomes in the world, 
do you really mean to say that your Tutor has 
become a fly?" 

Frederic looked his father steadily in the face 
with his clear blue eyes, then said : — 

"I should not have believed it myself, if the 
Stranger Child had not said so, and if I had not 
seen with my own eyes that he is only a horrible 
fly, and pretends to be Tutor Ink. And then," 
continued Frederic, while his father shook his 
head in wonder, "see what Mother says about 
him. Is he not ravenous for sweet things? Is 
that not just like a fly? And then his hummings 
and buzzings." 

"Silence," cried the Count. "Whatever Tutor 
Ink is, one thing is certain, the Purple Bird has 


not bitten him to death! for there he comes out 
of the wood!" 

At this the children uttered loud screams, and 
rushed behind the door. In truth, Tutor Ink was 
approaching, but he was wild-looking and bewil- 
dered. He was buzzing and humming, and spring- 
ing high in the air, first to one side, then to the 
other, and banging his head against the trees. He 
tumbled into the house, and dashed at the milk- 
jug, and popped his head into it so that the milk 
ran over the sides. Then he gulped and gulped, 
making a horrid noise of swallowing. 

"What ails you, Tutor Ink?" cried the Count- 
ess. "What are you about?" 

"Are you out of your senses? " asked the Count. 
"Is the foul fiend after you?" 

But without making any answer, Tutor Ink, 
taking his mouth from the milk-jug, threw him- 
self down on the dish of butter, and began to 
lick it with his pointed tongue. Then, with a 
loud buzzing, he sprang off the table and began 
to stagger hither and thither about the room, as 
though he was drunk. 

"This is pretty behaviour!" cried the Count, as 
he tried to seize Tutor Ink by the coat tails; but 
Tutor Ink managed to elude him deftly. 

Just then Frederic came running up with his 
father's big fly-flapper in his hand, and gave it 
to the Count, crying: — 


"Here you are, Father! Knock the terrible 
Mouche to death!" 

The Count took the fly-flapper; and then they 
all set to work to drive away Tutor Ink. Fan- 
chon and Frederic and their mother took table 
napkins, and made sweeps with them in the air, 
driving the Tutor backward and forward, here 
and there, while the Count kept striking at him 
with the fly-flapper. 

Wilder and wilder grew the chase. "Hum! 
Hum J ' ' and ' ' Sum I Sum I ' ' went the Tutor, storm- 
ing hither and thither. "Flip ! Flap!" and " Clip 1 
Clap!" went the table napkins and fly-flapper. 

At last the Count managed to hit the Tutor's 
coat tails. Then just as the Count was going to 
strike a second time, up bounced the Tutor into 
the air, and, with renewed strength, stormed, hum- 
ming and buzzing, out of the door, and away 
among the trees. 

"Well done!" exclaimed the Count. "We are 
rid of that abominable Tutor Ink! Never shall 
he cross my threshold again!" 


Fanchon and Frederic now breathed freely once 
more. A great weight was taken off their hearts. 
They rejoiced that now, since the wicked Mouche 


was gone, the Stranger Child might come back. 
They hurried to the wood. Everything was 
silent and deserted. Not a merry note of a single 
bird was there. Instead of the joyous singing of 
the brook, and the gladsome rustling of the leaves, 
they seemed to hear sighs and moans that passed 
through the air. Just then, close behind them, 
snarling voices cried out: — 

"Stupid creatures! Senseless creatures! You 
despised us! You did not know how to treat us! 
We are come back to punish you!" 

Fanchon and Frederic looked around, and saw 
the little hunter and the harper rise out of the 
thicket. The harper twanged his tiny harp, while 
the hunter took aim at Frederic; and both cried 
out: — 

"Wait, you boy and girl! We are obedient 
servants of Tutor Ink! He will be here in a mo- 
ment, and then we '11 pay you well for despising us ! " 

Terrified, the children turned to run away, 
when the doll rose up out of the thicket, and 
squeaked out: — 

"Stupid creatures! Senseless creatures! I am 
an obedient servant of Tutor Ink! He will be 
here in a moment, and then I'll pay you well 
for despising me!" And with that the naughty 
creature sent great splashes of muddy water fly- 
ing at Fanchon and Frederic, so that they were 
quite wet. 


Then the children fell on their knees sobbing: 
"Oh, how unfortunate we are! Will no one take 
pity on us!" 

Scarcely had they said thus, when the play- 
things disappeared. The rushing of the brook 
turned to the sweetest music. All the wood 
streamed with a wonderful sparkling light. And, 
lo! the Stranger Child came forth from the 
thicket, surrounded by such brilliant rays that 
Fanchon and Frederic had to shut their eyes for 
a minute. 

Then they felt themselves touched gently, 
and the Stranger Child's sweet voice said: — 

"Oh, do not mourn for me, dear playmates! 
Though you will not see me again, still I shall be 
near you. Neither the wicked Mouche nor any 
other Gnome shall have power to harm you. Only 
go on loving me faithfully." 

"That we shall! that we shall! dear Shining 
Child!" the children cried. "We love you with 
all our hearts!" 

And at last when they could open their eyes, 
the Stranger Child had vanished; and all their 
grief and fear were gone, too. Delight beamed in 
their eyes and shone in their cheeks. 

And what the Stranger Child had said, came 
to pass. Nothing ever harmed Fanchon and 
Frederic. They grew up handsome, clever, and 
sweet-tempered; and all that they undertook 


prospered. And as the years went on, they still, 
in their dreams, played with the Stranger Child, 
who never ceased to bring them the loveliest 
things from its Fairy Home. 





"Arise! my maiden, Mabel," 
The mother said: "arise! 
For the golden sun of Midsummer 
Is shining in the skies. 

"Arise! my little maiden, 

For thou must speed away, 
To wait upon thy grandmother 
This live-long Summer Day. 

"And thou must carry with thee 
This wheaten eake so fine, 
This new-made pat of butter, 
This little flask of wine. 

"And tell the dear old body, 
This day I cannot come, 
For the goodman went out yestermorn, 
And he is not come home. 

"And more than this, poor Amy 
Upon my knee doth lie; 
I fear me, with this fever-pain 
The little child will die! 


"And thou canst help thy grandmother ;- 
The table thou canst spread, 
Canst feed the little dog and bird, 
And thou canst make her bed. 

"And thou canst fetch the water 
From the Lady-well hard by, 
And thou canst gather from the wood 
The fagots brown and dry; 

"Canst go down to the lonesome glen, 
To milk the mother-ewe; 
This is the work, my Mabel, 
That thou wilt have to do. 

"But listen now, my Mabel: 
This is Midsummer Day, 
When all the Fairy people 
From Elfland come away. 

"And when thou 'rt in the lonesome glen, 
Keep by the running burn, 
And do not pluck the strawberry flower, 
Nor break the lady-fern. 

"But think not of the Fairy folk, 
Lest mischief should befall ; 
Think only of poor Amy, 
And how thou lov'st us all. 


"Yet keep good heart, my Mabel, 
If thou the Fairies see, 
And give them kindly answer 
If they should speak to thee. 

"And when into the fir- wood 
Thou goest for fagots brown, 
Do not, like idle children, 
Go wandering up and down; 

"But fill thy little apron, 

My child, with earnest speed; 
And that thou break no living bough 
Within the wood, take heed. 

"For they are spiteful Brownies 
Who in the wood abide; 
So be thou careful of this thing, 
Lest evil should betide. 

"But think not, little Mabel, 
Whilst thou art in the wood, 
Of dwarfish, wilful Brownies, 
But of the Father good. 

"And when thou goest to the spring, 
To fetch the water thence, 
Do not disturb the little stream, 
Lest this should give offence. 


"For the Queen of all the Fairies 
She loves that water bright; 
I 've seen her drinking there, myself, 
On many a Summer night. 

"But she's a gracious lady, 

And her thou need'st not fear; 
Only disturb thou not the stream, 
Nor spill the water clear." 

"Now all this I will heed, mother, 
Will no word disobey, 
And wait upon the grandmother 
This live-long Summer Day." 


Away tripped little Mabel, 

With the wheaten cake so fine, i 

With the new-made pat of butter, 
And the little flask of wine. 

And long before the sun was hot, 
And the Summer mist had cleared, 

Beside the good old grandmother 
The willing child appeared. 

And all her mother's message 

She told with right good-will 
How that the father was away, 

And the little child was ill. 


And then she swept the hearth up clean, 
And then the table spread, 

And next she fed the dog and bird, 
And then she made the bed. 

"And go now/' said the grandmother, 
"Ten paces down the dell, 
And bring in water for the day — 
Thou know'st the Lady-well." 

The first time that good Mabel went, 

Nothing at all saw she, 
Except a bird, a sky-blue bird, 

That sat upon a tree. 

The next time that good Mabel went, 

There sat a lady bright 
Beside the well, — a lady small, 

All clothed in green and white. 

A curtsey low made Mabel, 
And then she stooped to fill 

Her pitcher at the sparkling spring, 
But no drop did she spill. 

"Thou art a handy maiden," 

The Fairy lady said; 
"Thou hast not spilt a drop, nor yet 

The Fairy Spring troubled. 


"And for this thing which thou hast done/ 
Yet may'st not understand, 
I give to thee a better gift 
Than houses or than land. 

"Thou shalt do well whate'er thou dost, 
As thou hast done this day — 
Shalt have the will and power to please, 
And shalt be loved alway." 

Thus having said, she passed from sight, 

And naught could Mabel see, 
But the little bird, the sky-blue bird, 

Upon the leafy tree. 

part in 
"And now go," said the grandmother, 
j "And fetch in fagots dry; 
All in the neighbouring fir-wood, 
Beneath the trees they lie." 

Away went kind, good Mabel, 

Into the fir-wood near, 
Where all the ground was dry and brown, 

And the grass grew thin and sear. 

She did not wander up and down, 

Nor yet a live branch pull, 
But steadily of the fallen boughs t 

She picked her apron full. 


And when the wildwood Brownies 

Came sliding to her mind, 
She drove them thence, as she was told, 

With home-thoughts sweet and kind. 

But all that while the Brownies 

Within the fir- wood still, 
They watched her how she picked the wood, 

And strove to do no ill. 

"And oh! but she is small and neat!" 
Said one; "'t were shame to spite 
A creature so demure and meek, 
A creature harmless quite!" 

"Look only," said another, 
* "At her little gown of blue, 
At her kerchief pinned about her head, 
And at her little shoe!" 

"Oh! but she is a comely child," 
Said a third; "and we will lay 

A good-luck penny in her path, 
A boon for her this day, — 

Seeing she broke no living wood, 
No live thing did affray ! " 

With that the smallest penny, 

Of the finest silver ore, 
Upon the dry and slippery path, 

Lay Mabel's feet before. 


With joy she picked the penny up, 

The Fairy penny good; 
And with her fagots dry and brown 

Went wandering from the wood. 

"Now she has that," said the Brownies, 
"Let flax be ever so dear, 
'T will buy her clothes of the very best, 
For many and many a year." 


"And go now," said the grandmother, 
"Since falling is the dew — 
Go down unto the lonesome glen, 
And milk the mother-ewe." 

All down into the lonesome glen, 
Through copses thick and wild, 

Through moist, rank grass, by trickling 
Went on the willing child. 

And when she came to the lonesome glen, 

She kept beside the burn, 
And neither plucked the strawberry-flower, 

Nor broke the lady-fern. 

And while she milked the mother-ewe 

Within this lonesome glen, 
She wished that little Amy 

Were strong and well again. 


And soon as she had thought this thought, 

She heard a coming sound, 
As if a thousand Fairy folk 

Were gathering all around. 

And then she heard a little voice, 

Shrill as the midge's wing, 
That spake aloud: "A human child 

Is here, yet mark this thing! — 

"The lady-fern is all unbroke, 

The strawberry-flower unta'en ! 
What shall be done for her who still 
From mischief can refrain?" 

/'Give her a Fairy cake! " said one; 

"Grant her a wish! " said three; 
"The latest wish that she hath wished," 
Said all, "whate'er it be!" 

Kind Mabel heard the words they spake, 

And from the lonesome glen 
Unto the good old grandmother 

Went gladly back again. 

Thus happened it to Mabel, 

On that Midsummer Day, 
And these three Fairy blessings 

She took with her away. 


T is good to make all duty sweet, 

To be alert and kind; 
Tis good, like little Mabel, 

To have a willing mind. 

Mary Howitt 


Oh I where do Fairies hide their heads, 

When snow lies on the hills — 
When frost has spoiled their mossy beds, 

And crystallized their rills f 
Beneath the moon they cannot trip 

In circles oer Hie plain; 
And draughts of dew they cannot sip, 

Till green leaves come again. 

When they return there will be mirth, 

And music in the air, 
And Fairy wings upon the earth, 

And mischief everywhere. 
The maids, to keep the Elves aloof, 

Will bar the doors in vain; 
No keyhole will be Fairy-proof, 

When green leaves come again. 

Thomas Hatnes Bayly 



Tap, tap, tap, rap! "Get up, Gaffer Ferryman." 

"Eh! who is there?" The clock strikes three. 
"Get up, do, Gaffer! You are the very man 

We have been long — long — longing to see." 
The Ferryman rises, growling and grumbling, 
And goes fum-fumbling, and stumbling, and tum- 
Over the wares in his way to the door. 
But he sees no more 
Than he saw before, 
Till a voice is heard — "0 Ferryman, dear! 
Here we are waiting, all of us here! 
We are a wee, wee colony, we; 
Some two hundred in all, or three. 
Ferry us over the river Lee 
Ere dawn of day, 
And we will pay 
The most we may, 
In our own wee way!" 


"Who are you? Whence came you? What place 
are you going to?" 
"Oh, we have dwelt over-long in this land; 


The people get cross, and are growing so know- 
ing, too! 
Nothing at all but they now understand; 
We are daily vanishing under the thunder 
Of some huge engine or iron wonder; 
That iron, ah! — it has entered our souls!" 

« Your souls? O gholes, 

You queer little drolls ! 

Do you mean ?" "Good Gaffer, do aid us 

with speed, 
For our time, like our stature, is short indeed ! 
And a very long way we have to go, 
Eight or ten thousand miles or so, 
Hither and thither, and to and fro; 
With our pots and pans, 
And little gold cans; 
But our light caravans 
Run swifter than man's!" 


"Well, well, you may come!" said the Ferryman, 
"Patrick, turn out, and get ready the barge!" 
Then again to the Little Folk — "Though you 
seem laughably 
Small, I don't mind, if your coppers be large." 
Oh, dear! what a rushing, what pushing, what 

(The watermen making vain efforts at hushing 


The hubbub the while) there followed these words! 

What clapping of boards! 

What strapping of cords ! 
What stowing away of children and wives, 
And platters, and mugs, and spoons, and knives! 
Till all had safely got into the boat, 
And the Ferryman, clad in his tip-top coat, 
And his wee little Fairies were safely afloat! 

Then ding! ding! ding! 

And kling! kling! kling! 

How the coppers did ring 

In the tin pitcherling! 


Off, then, went the boat, at first very pleasantly, 

Smoothly, and so forth; but after a while 
It swayed and it swagged this and that way, and 
Chest after chest, and pile after pile, 
Of the Little Folks' goods began tossing and 

And pitching like fun, beyond Fairy controlling! 
O Mab ! if the hubbub were great before, 
It was now some two or three million times 

Crash! went the wee crocks, and the clocks, and 
the locks 
Of each little wee box were stove in by hard 


And then there were oaths, and prayers, and 

cries — 
"Take care!" — "See there!" — "Oh, dear! my 

"I am killed!" — "I am drowned!" — with 
groans and sighs; 

Till to land they drew; 
"Yeo-ho! Pull to! 
Tiller-rope, thro' and thro'!" 
And all's right anew. 


"Now, jump upon shore, ye queer little oddities, 
Eh! what is this? — Where are they, at 
Where are they, and where are their tiny com- 
Well! as I live!" He looks blank as a wall, 
Poor Ferryman! Round him, and round him 

he gazes, 
But only gets deeplier lost in the mazes 
Of utter bewilderment! All, all are gone — 
And he stands alone, 
Like a statue of stone, 
In a doldrum of wonder. He turns to steer, 
And a tinkling laugh salutes his ear 
With other odd sounds — "Ha! ha! ha! ha! 
Fol, lol; zidziddel — quee, quee — bah! bah! 
Fizzigig — giggidy! phsee! sha! sha!" 


"O ye thieves, ye thieves! ye rascally thieves!" 
The good man cries. He turns to his pitcher, 
And there, alas! to his horror perceives, 

That the Little Folks' mode of making him 
Has been to pay him with — withered leaves. 

James Clarence Mangan 



Sooth 't is, old Friend, 

Thou banishest 

The golden rest 

Of the hours; 

Dost cruelly send 

The birds off, and 

The twinkling band 

Of the flowers; 

Dost lash the shadows out of the woods, 

And kill the souls in the plunging floods. 

Thou chillest the green, 

And it departs 

Into the hearts 

Of the meas, 

And dreams of sheen, 

Grasses and leaves, 

Blossoms and sheaves, 

And of trees; 

Thou foldest all colours up in mould, 

And touchest the aching light with cold. 

There is no gloom 
Of vanished wold, 
Inlaid with gold, 


But glens, 

And heights in bloom, 

And shadowing woods, 

And tumbling floods, 

And plains, 

Of Summer in the core of the world, 

And golden skies are there unfurled. 

The Fairies keep 

A revel there, 

And banish care 

With mirth; 

When snows are deep, 

And woods are cross, 

Enjoy our loss 

In the Earth; 

The leaves and grass and water-springs, 

The glorious world with its living things, 

Each happy thought that goes on wings, 

And sings, 

Or thinks itself in blossomings 

Of red and gold, 

All bless the cold, 

That ruleth with an iron hand 

To build in the Earth a Fairyland. 

At Christmas tide, 
On country farms 
In games and charms 


Thou thrivest; 

By deep hearth side, 

When tales are told 

And songs are trolled, 

As through the mould 

Thou drivest 

The shuddering flowers, thou dost begin 

To gather us up, and drive us in. 

For all, whom care 

Or labour drew 

From old to new 

In the year, 

Thou dost prepare 

The roaring hearth, 

And garrulous mirth, 

And beer 

In massy cans, to season it, 

Nut-brown and livelier than thy wit. 

The Yule log sends 

Its light abroad 

O'er roof and board; 

And cheerily 

In shade ascends 

The cricket's song; 

The winds are strong, 

And drearily 

Shrill past the rattling window panes, and down 

The wide-mouthed chimney shriek and moan. 


The hinds drop in 

From fold and pen, 

And graver men 

From labours; 

And maids who spin 

And catch perchance 

With smile and glance 

Their neighbours; 

The dame is there, and reverend sire, 

And children clustering round the fire. 

They quaff their ale, 

Their pipes they fill, 

And he, who has skill 

In numbers, 

Prolongs the tale; 

The wheel goes round 

With a drowsy sound 

And slumbers. 

The humming stoup goes round and round, 

Till their heads go round, as the wheel goes round; 

And sleep and silence go their round. 

And the Fairy Summer underground 

Blooms all night long in 

Sleep till morning, 

Buds and blossoms, without a sound. 





Animal Friends: Judy and the Fairy Cat, 103; Kintaro, 161; Little 
Tiny, 319. 

Bears: Kintaro, 161. 

Birds: Butterfly's Diamond, 304; Kintaro, 161; Little Tiny, 319; 
Shining Child, 361. 

Boggarts: The Boggart, 105. 

Bottle Imps: Legend of Bottle Hill, 44. 

Brothers and Sisters: Blanche and Rose, 258; Immortal Foun- 
tain, 337; Mabel on Midsummer Day, 400; Shining Child, 361; 
The Pixies, 138. 

Brownies: Brownie of Blednoch, 142; Mabel on Midsummer Day, 

Camelias: Flower Fairies, 166. 

Cats: Judy and the Fairy Cat, 103. 

Caves: Echo the Cave Fairy, 179; Knockers' Diamonds, 77. 

Christmas: Elsa and the Ten Elves, 145; Old Winter's Fairyland, 
418; One-Eyed Prying Joan's Tale, 121. 

Clover: The Four-Leaved Clover, 172. 

Conscience: Timothy Tuttle and the Little Imps, 290. 

Coral: Butterfly's Diamond, 304; Isles of the Sea Fairies, 182. 

Courageous Adventures: Brown Dwarf, 53; Milk-White Calf, 20; 
Sleeping Beauty, 231; The Smith and the Fairies, 194. 

Cows: Curmudgeon's Skin, 97; Legend of Bottle Hill, 44; Milk- 
White Calf, 20; The Four-Leaved Clover, 172. 

Crocks op Gold. See Treasure Stories. 

Cruelty: Bad Boy and the Leprechaun, 70; Prince Cheri, 239. 

Curiosity: Curmudgeon's Skin, 97; How Peeping Kate was Piskey- 
Led, 111; One-Eyed Prying Joan's Tale, 121; Piskey Fine! 

Dances op Fairies. See Fairy Rings. 

Deer: Kintaro, 161. 

Diamonds: Butterfly's Diamond, 304; Knockers* Diamonds, 77; 

Toads and Diamonds, 255. 
Disobedience. See Obedience and Disobedience. 


Dogs: Fairy's Servants, 133. 

Duty: Elsa and the Ten Elves, 145; Fairy's Servants, 133; Mabel on 
Midsummer Day, 400; The Pixies, 138. 

Echo: Echo the Cave Fairy, 179. 
Elfinland. See Fairyland. 

Fairy Children: Coal-Black Steed, 198; Little Niebla, 312; Little 
Tiny, 319; Magic Ferns, 189; Ownself, 107; Skillywidden, 79; The 
Tomts, 155. 

Fairy Gold. See Treasure Stories. 

Fairyland: At the Court of Fairyland, 209; Coal-Black Steed, 198; 
But we that Live in Fairyland, 188; Elidore, 206; Fairy's Serv- 
ants, 133; Girl who Danced with the Fairies, 203; Girl who was 
Stolen by the Fairies, 201; Magic Ferns, 189; Shining Child, 361; 
Old Winter's Fairyland, 418. 

Fairy Rings: Adventures of Robin Goodfellow, 9; Dance of the 
Fairies, 32; Girl who Danced with the Fairies, 203; How Peeping 
Kate was Piskey-Led, 111; In the Glowing Light of a Summer 
Sky, 8; Milk-White Calf, 20; Potato Supper, 15; Wood-Lady, 

Farm Stories: Blanche and Rose, 258; Brownie of Blednoch, 142; 
Elsa and the Ten Elves, 145; Old Winter's Fairyland, 418; Piskey 
Fine! 149; The Four-Leaved Clover, 172; The Tomts, 155. 

Ferns: Magic Ferns, 189. 

Field Mice: Little Tiny, 319. 

Fish: How Kahukura Learned to Make Nets, 176; Potato Supper, 

Flies: Shining Child, 361. 

Flowers: Fairy Island, 169; Flower Fairies, 166; Little Tiny, 319; 
One-Eyed Prying Joan's Tale, 121; Shining Child, 361. 

Forests. See Woods and Forests. 

Foxes: Little Niebla, 312. 

Friends and Helpers: At the Court of Fairyland, 209; Brownie of 
Blednoch, 142; Elsa and the Ten Elves, 145; Fairy Wedding, 151; 
Gillie Dhu, 174; Piskey Fine! 149; Shining Child, 361; Sick-Bed 

' Elves, 109; The Pixies, 138; The Tomts, 155. 

Generous and Ungenerous: Blanche and Rose, 258; Tom and the 

Knockers, 73. 
Glass Slippers: Cinderella, 221. 
Gnomes: Shining Child, 361. 
Goblins: Greedy Old Man, 39. 


Gourmandizing: Fairy Do-Nothing, 281. 

Grains: Song of the Elfin Miller, 157; The Tomts, 155. 

Greed. See Selfishness and Greed. 

Hallowe'en: Girl who Danced with the Fairies, 203; How Peep- 
ing Kate was Piskey-Led, 111; Judy and the Fairy Cat, 103; 
Milk-White Calf, 20. 

Hill Stories: Brown Dwarf, 53; Elidore, 206; Greedy Old Man, 
39; Legend of Bottle Hill, 44; Milk-White Calf, 20; Monday! 
Tuesday! 35; The Smith and the Fairies, 194; T is the Midnight 

.•Hour, 34. 

Horses: Coal-Black Steed, 198. 

Hospitality: Blanche and Rose, 258; Childe Charity, 348. 

Humorous Stories: Curmudgeon's Skin, 97; Fairy's Servants, 
133; Little Redcap, 91; Milk-White Calf, 20; Monday! Tues- 
day! 35; Ownself, 107; The Boggart, 105; The Ragweed, 66. 

Impoliteness. See Politeness and Impoliteness. 

Imps: Coal-Black Steed, 198; Timothy Tuttle and the Little Imps, 

Industry: Butterfly's Diamond, .304; Elsa and the Ten Elves, 


Kelpies: Come! Come! 3. 

Kindness and Goodness: Blanche and Rose, 258; Childe Charity, 

348; Cinderella, 221; Fairy Wedding, 151; Immortal Fountain, 

337; Mabel on Midsummer Day, 400; Toads and Diamonds, 255. 
King op the Fairies: Adventures of Robin Goodfellow, 9; At the 

Court of Fairyland, 209; Come! Come! 3; Elidore, 206; Magic 

Ferns, 189. 
Knockers: Come! Come! 3; Knockers' Diamonds, 77; Tom and the 

Knockers, 73. 

Laziness: Butterfly's Diamond, 304; Elsa and the Ten Elves, 145; 

Fairy Do-Nothing, 281; The Pixies, 138. 
Leprechauns: Bad Boy and the Lepreohaun, 70; Boy who Found 

the Pots of Gold, 63; Come! Come! 3; The Leprechaun, 84; The 

Ragweed, 66. 

Mab. See Queen of the Fairies. 

Magic Gifts: Enchanted W 7 atch, 264; Legend of Bottle Hill, 44; 

Little Redcap, 91; Prince Cheri, 239; Toads and Diamonds, 255; 

Wood-Lady, 26. 


Mat Day: Flower Fairies, 166; Girl who Danced with the Fairies, 
203; Kintaro, 161; The Four-Leaved Clover, 172. 

Mice: LittleSTiny, 319. 

Midsummer Day: Mabel on Midsummer Day, 400. 

Mixes and Miners: Knockers' Diamonds, 77; Tom and the Knock- 
ers, 73. 

Moles: Little Tiny, 319. 

Naughtiness: Butterfly's Diamond, 304?; Fairy Do-Nothing, 281. 

Obedience and Disobedience: Mabel on Midsummer Day, 400; 

Skillywidden, 79; Wood-Lady, 26. 
Oberon. See King of the Fairies. 
Ointment, Fairy: Coal-Black Steed, 198; One-Eyed Prying Joan's 

Tale, 121. 

Peonies: Flower Fairies, 166. 

Perseverance: Butterfly's Diamond, 304; Immortal Fountain, 

Piskeys: Come! Come! 3; How Peeping Kate was Piskey-Led, 111 ; 

Piskey Fine! 149. 
Pixies: The Pixies, 138. 
Politeness and Impoliteness: Monday! Tuesday! 35; The Tomts, 

155; Toads and Diamonds, 255; Tom and the Knockers, 73. 
Potatoes: Potato Supper, 15. 
Pots of Gold. See Treasure Stories. 
Promptness: Enchanted Watch, 264. 
Prying: How Peeping Kate was Piskey-Led, 111; One-Eyed Prying 

Joan's Tale, 121. 

Queen of the Fairies: At the Court of Fairyland, 209; Butterfly's 
Diamond, 304; Come! Come! 3; Dance of the Fairies, 32; Im- 
mortal Fountain, 337; Mabel on Midsummer Day, 400; Milk- 
WTiite Calf, 20; Queen Mab, 276; Shining Child, 361. 

Ragweeds: The Ragweed, 66. 

Redcaps: Curmudgeon's Skin, 97; Little Redcap, 91; The Fairy 

Folk, 128. 
Retribution: Bad Boy and the Leprechaun, 70; Blanche and Rose, 

258; Coal-Black Steed, 198; Elidore, 206; Enchanted Watch, 264; 

Fairy Dc-Nothing, 281; Fairy Island, 169; Greedy Old Man, 39; 

How Peeping Kate was Piskey-Led, 111; One-eyed Prying Joan's 


Tale, 121; Prince Cheri, 239; The Pixies, 138; Toads and Dia- 
monds, 255; Tom and the Knockers, 73. 

Rewards of Goodness: Blanche and Rose, 258; Childe Charity, 
348; Fairy's Servants, 133; Immortal Fountain, 337; Judy and the 
Fairy Cat, 103; Knockers' Diamonds, 77; Mabel on Midsummer 
Day, 400; The Pixies, 138; Toads and Diamonds, 255. 

Robin Goodfellow: Adventures of Robin Goodfellow, 9; At the 
Court of Fairyland, 209; Their Dwellings be, 132. 

Salmon: Potato Supper, 15. 

Sea Fairies. See Water Fairies. 

Selfishness: Bad Boy and the Leprechaun, 70; Blanche and Rose, 
258; Enchanted Watch, 264; Fairy Do-Nothing, 281; Greedy Old 
Man, 39; Timothy Tuttle, 290; Tom and the Knockers, 73. 

Shamrocks: Curmudgeon's Skin, 97. 

Shoemakers. See Leprechauns. 

Spriggans: Come! Come! 3; Greedy Old Man, 39; How Peeping 
Kate was Piskey-Led, 111; One-Eyed Prying Joan's Tale, 121; 
Skillywidden, 79. 

Springs and Wells: Girl who Danced with the Fairies, 203; Im- 
mortal Fountain, 337; Mabel on Midsummer Day, 400. 

Stealing: Elidore, 206; Fairy Island, 169; Greedy Old Man, 39; 
How Peeping Kate was Piskey-Led, 111. 

Swallows: Little Tiny, 319. 

Tardiness: Enchanted Watch, 264. 

Tengus: Kintaro, 161. 

Threshing: Brownie of Blednoch, 142; How Peeping Kate was Pis- 
key-Led, 111 ; Piskey Fine! 149; The Tomts, 155. 

Thrift: Elsa and the Ten Elves, 145. 

Tin Mines: Knockers' Diamonds, 77; Tom and the Knock- 
ers, 73. 

Toads: Little Tiny, 319; Toads and Diamonds, 255. 

Tom Thumb: Adventures of Robin Goodfellow, 9. 

Tomts: Fairy Wedding, 151; The Tomts, 155. 

Treasure Stories: And will you Come Away! 62; Bad Boy and 
the Leprechaun, 70; Boy who Found the Pots of Gold, 63; Eli- 
dore, 206; Greedy Old Man, 39; Skillywidden, 79; The Lepre- 
chaun, 84; The Ragweed, 66. 

Trees: Shining Child, 361. 

Tyranny: Prince Cheri, 239. 

Ungenerous. See Generous and Ungenerous. 


Wages, Fairy: Adventures of Robin Goodfellow, 9; Brownie of 
Blednoch, 142; Fairy's Servants, 133; Piskey Fine! 149; The Fair- 
ies' Passage, 413. 

Water Fairies: Butterfly's Diamond, 304; Come! Come! 3; Fairy 
Island, 169; How Kahukura Learned to Make Nets, 176; Isles of 
the Sea Fairies, 182; Little Niebla, 312. 

Winter: Little Tiny, 319; Old Winter's Fairyland, 418. 

Woods and Forests: Gillie Dhu, 174; Kintaro, 161; Shining Child, 
361; Sleeping Beauty, 231; Wood-Lady, 26. 

U . S . A